


Anne Bonney

by Dr_Mini_Me



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Atleast I think she's strong?, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Because I can't deal, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, I Tried, John Lives, Medicinal Drug Use, Murder, She was a badass, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tommy is in character, You decide!, hopefully, loosely based on Anne Bonny the pirate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-05-08 14:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 46,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Mini_Me/pseuds/Dr_Mini_Me
Summary: Anne Bonney, orphaned at 24, runs to Birmingham in hopes that her demons die in the past and becomes a simple barmaid. But its funny how stuff that you run from catches up to you, isn't it?Set in 1921, might follow the show, might not!





	1. Chapter 1

From the moment I was born, my da supposed I'd been sent from hell just to annoy him...and he might have been right. Robert Bonney was not a rich man by any means, nor was I his wife's daughter. Instead I was a bastard, born out of wedlock to Robert Bonney and his servant, Martha McCormac in Belfast. I think I'd taken to annoying him to death as my life's duty by the age of five.  

In his many efforts to take a bastard and make a respectable woman of her, I became his cousin's boy. When I was a wee girl, I'd been dressed up as a boy and acted as a clerk in his law firm back in Ireland. He didn't realise it at the time, but he'd given me the perfect opportunity to bother him even more. I messed up almost every piece of paper I could get my hands on, was that supposed to be a R? Well now its a lopsided P.

It really was just a matter of time until I'd grown to old to pass off as his cousin's boy. The flaming red curly hair and the deep-set round eyes said too much about him and my mother. My mother was a good woman, but my father's wife wasn't fond of her regardless of what she'd claimed she didn't want to do with my father. 

His wife, Helen, was absolutely delighted when my body began to take the shape of a woman and my parent's features became more pronounced in my face. She practically skipped her way through town when she finally figured it all out. I'd dropped the act of a boy in the eyes of his family and colleagues, though I'd kept the clothes and the attitude easily enough. After a year of embarrassment and being cut off from his family's fortune, he'd finally taken my mother on as a lover rather than a servant and part-time bed-warmer. 

My mother had fallen ill when I was about 13. She just coughed at first, but then the rash and the fever started and she faded from us after a year. By the end of it she swore up and down that I was the devil's spawn. She claimed I'd been sent to kill her and take her child away but it didn't matter how much I tried to calm her. She worked herself up into a frenzy and collapsed. She didn't come back to us after that. We buried her in a church near by and I didn't cry. I refused to cry.

Children teasing and pushing me around for a feeble mother and a dishonoured father forced me to harden as a girl. I hated him and his sort of person to the point that I made sure even as a teenager, he wasn't going to be proud of me. At 14, my da moved us from Belfast and into London where he'd picked up a the trade of a merchant he'd been called away until the Great War.

Before the war, things went on as they always had. My father attempted to marry me off to a couple of blokes after my mother's death, but they just couldn't quite make it through my temper. Life was fine until I turned 24. A few years after my father left for war, a letter came back from the post office. It was odd because I hadn't heard from him in a good while, not since he'd left and I liked it that way.  

Its funny how a little yellow bit of paper could ruin your entire life in one move, really is quite the laugh. He was dead, killed in action or something. I didn't have time to cry or even care that I was officially alone in the world. The men that the war hadn't taken in were jumping me left and right for a piece of what my da had left behind. Gangs moved in quickly, a stupid protection fee came about while I struggled to juggle the books and not go out of business at the same time.

"I don't feel very protected, mate." I glared as hard as I bloody could at the jew in front of me, and his stupid gun.

"Well you shoulda paid the fee, Anne." He shrugged, idiot. Imbecile. I hated him and his lopsided hair cut, hated him with all my gut.

"Oh, fuck you, stook. Alfie knows I don't have the cash to even keep the bloody lights on!" I hit the table next to me, shaking the years of dust I'd let build up on it along with the book I'd been attempting to read.

"Not our problem." He shrugged again. Of course it wasn't nothing was ever their problem unless you were a jew. 

"You know what? I'm done." I shrugged back, just as idiotically as he had.

"What?" Oh good, I'd confused him. Must have snapped the connection between his head and his thoughts then. I forced a loud bark of laughter as I began grabbing things I might be able to trade for food or something. Barely had any money but maybe that wouldn't matter?

"What're you doing, Anne? Don't be stupid." He moved quickly, attempting to stop me from opening the register when I'd made my way over there.

"I'm leaving." I deadpanned as I pushed the button to pop open the drawer with ease.

"You can't just do that. You've got a debt." Alfie's lackey tried to stop me, putting his hand over my own and gripping it.

"Do I now? Right. Take the bloody shop then." I snatched my hand away from his and grabbed as much as I possibly could from the open drawer before he could stop me.

"Anne!" He was angry now and obviously knew my name as he held the gun up to my chest. Shame I didn't know his.

"What?" I barked at him, shoving him backwards with out a second thought. He fell quickly, not expecting the shove I guess, the gun clattered to the ground and went off.

POP!

It left a decent hole in the shelvings behind the register and sent a ringing through my ears. I didn't give a toss, wasn't my problem now, but the man trying to get the gun was my problem so I scrambled for it too. It really only took a kick to his groin for me to land hard on my knees and snatch the weapon.

"Really?" He was gasping, almost looked like he might cry as I pointed it at him. My da had taught me some before he'd left, but I definitely wasn't a marksman or anything. So, I just cocked it and hoped for the best in terms of aim.

"You're going to let me leave, or you're going to get shot in the leg." I declared as I stood, my legs were shaking a little more than I wanted them too.

"I can't let you leave." He was stubborn, I'll give him that. It wasn't going to help him much though, I was too determined to leave with all of my limbs in tact and zero holes in me.

"I think you can." I sighed, with my back getting closer and closer to the door. He shook his head, I almost wanted to laugh but the bloody moron jumped at me and I panicked.

BANG!

"Oh my god." My mouth dropped open right as his body dropped to the floor. He gasped for a second, attempting to clutch the wound in his back but he couldn't reach it. Blood flowed steadily out of it, seeping into the white of his shirt as I forced myself to keep backing up.

He was mumbling but I didn't hear him over the sound of my own heartbeat running at a thousand beats per minute and the ringing in my ears. I'd killed a man, well not quite but I sure as hell wasn't about to run for help. He'd never make it out of here. Good god, what have I done? What I had to do, right? 

"Ah!" He reached for my ankle right as I jerked it out of his reach in surprise. I began shaking my head, not really sure of what I wanted to do anymore. I needed to leave...Leave, Anne! Now! Now is the time to go!

"I'm sorry." I mumbled mainly to myself as he stopped moving, my sorry wouldn't do him much good. His body jerked a bit but he didn't speak anymore and I couldn't see him breathing throughout the blood puddle draining out of him. I didn't know people bled like a stuck pig, I mean why would I know that? Have I even ever had a stuck pig? Leave, Anne!

The bell rang out behind me as I dashed out of the door and shoved the gun into my bag, I was running for a train. Any train really, I'd pick out the one that was coming the earliest and I'd get the hell out of here.

I did my best to avoid any particularly Jewish looking men or women but its not as though they had a bloody sign above their head that read out "ALFIE'S FOLLOWER" or something. It wasn't like there was a particular trait like all Jewish men wore red socks, well that wouldn't even help. I'd have to go around asking to see every one's socks.

"Where to, Miss?" I squinted at the man behind his desk, he looked decent enough. Shaved and properly dressed with the adage of an oddly coloured stain on his sleeve.

"Whens the next train?" I raised a brow. I didn't actually care where I went. I just wanted to leave London while I could.

"Uh, five minutes." He seemed confused by my questioning. Whatever. He could be confused, he could even report back to Alfie if he wanted, but I'd be gone by then.

"Terrific. I'll take that one." I declared abruptly as I slammed a couple of coins on the desk in front of him.

"But its to Birmingham, Miss. Is that wh-" He didn't move to take the money, still confused by my request.

"Don't care. One ticket to Birmingham." I cut him off quickly, tapping the desk out of a nervous habit. He eventually nodded, taking the money and sliding me a piece of paper slowly. I didn't want any questions and he got that, finally.

I rushed off in search of the platform with little regard as to where I was going, I just kept checking to see who was behind me. I'd killed a man and I didn't want to be killed today. I'm only 27, I'm pretty sure that I could get on for another decade.

* * *

I don't think I've ever had a more stressful train ride before in my entire life. It didn't help that I knew fuck-all about Birmingham either, I just sort of wandered until I came up to the decrepit side of town, black ash covered everything and men lumbered about with little hope in their eyes. Depressing, but I had a feeling that they'd ask less questions...probably because they felt all of life was meaningless.

All the better for me, I say! I wandered around the town, avoiding people left and right. I was starting to lose the nervousness and pick up some of the hopelessness just being around these people. I hated being around sad people, sad drunks included.

"Do it!" A man was laughing loudly as I heard the smashing of a glass bottle. I peeked around the corner to find a twp story pub of some sort that had a crowd of men in front of it, chuckling in a drunken fashion. Perfect. Less questions and I'm sure I had enough determination left in me to ask for a job or a place to live. I pushed past the men with all of zero interest in them despite the leering glances.

All at once I found myself in a smokey and loud room that was dimly lit despite the shiny ornamental pieces of mirrors and gold. An overwhelmed man that was balding stood behind the bar, darting about as he tried to fill several orders at once. I forced my way to the bar, waiting for him to notice me. It didn't take long for the men at the bar to notice me, an off-putting silence enveloped them with only the action of taking another puff of a cigarette or a sip of alcohol.

"We don't have any special rooms for you." The bar keep finally noticed me but dismissed me just as quickly. Irritating, but fair. 

"I'm not here to drink." I declared warily, having it dawn on me that I hadn't bother checking for a sign out front. I'd seen them around London, pubs that were only for women or bars that didn't allow women on the premises. They'd usually have a placard in the window either claiming, 'women bar' or 'Ladies are not served in this House'. I'd never bothered to stop in them, in fact I kept to myself in London despite Alfie's need to provide his so-called protection. 

"What can I do for you?" He raised a brow, focusing fully on me now with a raised brow. 

"A job or a place to sleep would be great." I nodded, forcing myself not to giggle at how taken-aback he was.

"Uh, I don't thin-" He started, shaking his head as he dropped back down for another glass.

"Give her a job, Harry." A crisp voice sounded off next to me, startling me slightly. I eyed the man next to me, clean shaven and casually smoking a cigarette with an elbow on the bar. He was nicely dressed though modestly so, and he didn't appear to be against my presence in the place. 

"Uhm. Well...do you even have any experience in a pub? Because we don't provide services for the men." When I looked back at Harry, I found him attempting to look me up and down with little success thanks to the bar between us. I supposed that by services he meant prostitutes, as in the bar didn't keep a brothel on the second floor. While I was getting a tad insulted by the inference, I ignored it. Prostitutes didn't wear trousers last I checked. 

"Yeah, I used to run a shop." I nodded, wondering how much I should actually tell this lot. I'd almost gotten shooed out, and called a prostitute in the first five minutes I'd been here. 

"Right...you can balance books then?" He nodded slowly, moving back to fill up the glass at the sound of another man grumbling.

"Yeah. I can also fill a pint with beer, mate. Its not that hard." I scoffed, figuring he just wanted me to stay in the back and write all day. I was tired of that, I wanted to do some thing else for a bit.

"You're hired then, starting now. Clean up the tables and get people's order..." He trailed off, peering at me for a second until I realised I might need to tell him a name to call me by.

"Anne...Cormac." I answered what I thought to be his question. He nodded quickly now, sliding the glass down to the man that had been irritable before.

"Clean the tables and fill orders, Anne." He gave me my orders as I set about doing so in a rushed fashion. I still carried my bag with me, not trusting any of the bar's patrons, down on their luck people had a tendency to pinch things.


	2. Chapter 2

I was rather sweaty and out of any sort of patience by the end of the night, if one more bloke touched my arse I was going to lose my mind. When did prostitutes start wearing _trousers_ , for God's sake!

My bag was heavy feeling now and kept hitting the side of my hip with each step I took, I was pretty sure that I could feel a bruise coming on. I mean I actually  _missed_ the dresses I used to wear, they had more padding near the hips than these trousers.

"OI! One more over here." Another man yelled at me as I attempted to empty out a spit bucket from under men's feet. They didn't give me a second glance unless they were focused on my chest or my arse. Pigs.

"Here ya are." Harry slide three mugs of beer down the line and I forced myself to catch them as I bit down on my lip, ignoring the stings of dried sticky beer mixed with the shards of a glass someone had smashed earlier in the evening. Terrific, one more open wound for me to stick some beer in.

I'd likely have to sew them up later on, my ma had taught me some common stitches she'd learned from her mum which came in handy when I was younger. I'd never done them to myself but it couldn't be that hard, right?

"'ere." I shoved the mugs roughly at the three men who all eyed me for a good second before they took the glasses. 

"Yer a pretty little thing. Whats got you workin' here?" The first, a rather homely looking man with a large scar up his cheek, was a little too curious for my tastes.

"Gotta eat, don't I?" I replied gruffly as I turned on my heel and rushed to clear another table that had just been vacated. Why was everyone obsessed with knowing what brought me here? Can a girl not just work for the sake of not starving to death?

This pattern continued on until well into the early morning and I was exhausted. I didn't expect to start working the minute I walked in the bloody door, I wasn't ready for it. Good god, I just want to lay down on the floor and become mush.

"Good job. You impressed Mr Shelby, though you may want to get that looked at." Harry was wiping down the counters as I attempted to force myself not to scream out of frustration when I cut my hand again. I'd just reopened the bloody cuts from earlier. Terrific. They'd definitely need some stitches now.

"Mr Shelby?" I picked my head up from wiping the table as it registered that I'd impressed a Shelby, not a Harry...which I was pretty sure was his name. Would it be rude to ask his name now? 

"You're not from around here, are ya?" He stopped his wiping as I raised a brow. Why was he so distressed now? He actually looked sorry for me which was irritating.

"Obviously not. Uh, whose actually boss 'round here?" I was short with him, waiting for an explanation. I didn't want a story of this legendary so-called owner that had a girly last name.

"Er, The Peaky Blinders sort of have a serious bit of influence in this bar but its my name on the papers." He gave me some sort of convoluted, half-arsed explanation as to why I should care about someone named Shelby or him. 

"What the hell are Peaky Blinders?" The term Peaky Blinders made my eyebrow raise. Please don't tell me that I'd just gotten out from one gang just to bloody run into another.

"They sort of run Small Heath...lots of betting gents in this town." Harry confirmed my worries as well as named where I actually was. I supposed that Small Heath was technically apart of Birmingham? I wasn't entirely sure what to do in this situation but the continuous reminder of my back aching told me I needed to sleep somewhere.

"Right. Well do you know of a place I could stay at for a bit? Just for my time in...Small Heath?" I made a short mental decision that I'd likely just have to leave England. Maybe move to America, I could become a farmer. Okay, I wouldn't make it as a farmer but maybe as the wife of a farmer? 

"You can stay upstairs for the night." He pointed to the stairs that led up to some place I didn't notice at first when I'd been in the throes of filling orders. Ah yes, the possible second story brothel. 

"Lovely, how much?" I raised a brow as I pulled my bag up onto the counter, the heavy clang of the gun I'd forgotten was in my bag sounded out over the silence. We just sort of stared at each other for a second with some sort of unspoken agreement not to ask why I had a gun in my bag. His acceptance turned into a look that I didn't quite understand settled over his brows as he gave me the boss eyes.

"Free of charge for tonight. Thank you...for your hard work." He spoke slowly, beginning to wipe down the bar once again as I hauled my bag off the counter once more. I almost ran up the stairs, my heart in my throat as I realised I'd need to actually get out of here somewhat earlier than I'd expected.

* * *

I'm not sure when I awoke but I could hear horses clonking by and people shoutin' in the street near my window. Everything echoed in the alley I looked out on, and a lovely black brick wall was all I could stare at. So I stared at it for a good minute, sipping half heated tea from a shite oven with shite ventilation. I elected not to risk burning down the building and just have my tea lukewarm at best.

My hand was tense and it hurt to move, any time I'd squeezed it shut I seemed to have ripped the side open yet again. I didn't bring any sewing supplies in my hurry so I was wondering if maybe Harry had some...if he did I needed them rather soon.

Casually, I went down the stairs and out to the bar area to find Harry as well as another gentleman with his back towards me. A steady cloud of smoke emerged above his head, as he continued to add to it with each breath. Did he not know that we weren't open right now? Or did he just not care?

"Oh, hey, Anne!" Harry greeted me rather easily as I strode closer, leaning on the bar. I eyed him for a quick second before I realised that he was wearing the same clothes from last night. Oh well, not my problem.

"Heya, have you got a bit of thread and some needle?" I raised a brow, cradling my hand as I came close enough to see the wrinkles and freckles all over Harry's face as well as a scar near his eyes. 

"Uh..." He slowed his movements, glancing to the man next to me before nodding, "Yeah, let me just go grab it."

"Thanks!" I was still cradling my hand but I attempted to give him a more legitimate smile than I had before.

At first this bloke and I just sat in silence, nothing but the sound of him breathing out broke it. I began tapping my foot for a good 30 seconds before he cleared his throat loudly.

"So what brings you to Small Heath, Miss...Cormac was it?" He finally turned to me, revealing the same man from yesterday. He'd still dressed well in a modest manner but he'd actually changed clothes.

"Just trying to make it in the world. Both my parents died and I figured why not take off and run down somewhere else?" I'd vomited out  _way_  too much information and we both knew it. His icy blues held onto the brown of my own like he was attempting to search my mind until Harry came back. He was cold and callous looking, like a lizard attempting to figure out the best way to break one down to be rebuild in his image.

"Here ya are, Anne." Harry set down the needle and thread in front of me and I nodded with some gratefulness.

"Thanks, got any poitín, or uh potcheen **,** or just something strong?" I began struggling to pull the thread through the needle's eye with a hand that just didn't want to humour me at the moment.

"Give her some of the stuff under the counter, Harry." The same nameless man seemed to run the show around here as Harry immediately gave me the colourless alcohol. I nodded my thanks again and dipped everything I could into the alcohol in some attempt to avoid infection. I finally forced the thread through the needle and flexed my hand once again, pulling up the skin that had newly healed.

"What?" I raised a brow as I stilled my movements to begin sewing, I could feel both sets of eyes on me. Harry's looked almost disgusted while the other lad's eyes were full of interest.

Harry shook his head while the other one just sort of shrugged nonchalantly, taking another drag off of his cigarette. I rolled my eyes as I elected to continue to attempt to stitch myself up. I inhaled deeply, forcing the needle and thread through the first bit of skin and released as I pulled it through.

It felt strange, to have something moving through your skin that burned but just sort of slid into place at the same time. The next stitch didn't hurt as much so I didn't feel the need to control my breathing, though it burned just as much as before. I continued this pattern until I'd pulled most of the skin together, but I'd gone too deep in the last stitch and while it wouldn't pull out, it stretched the skin of my palm uncomfortably near my smallest finger.

I bent down and bit down on the string, snapping it carefully before I attempted to knot it with only one hand and my mouth. It took a couple of trys and some sharp breaths before I finally knotted it and flexed my hand gently.

"Here ya ar', thanks." I nodded to Harry as I set about putting the needle back into the bit of thread that was left over. Just for good measure I dumped some more of the alcohol over my hand, trying my damnedest to ignore the burn.

"Right." Harry looked positively ill as I watched him swallow and turn back to the room in the rear to replace the thread. I inspected my hand as I continued to stand in silence next to the other guy who had decided he was done with watching me like I was a bloody animal in the fair.

"Where'd a girl like you learn to do that, eh?" The man questioned me again, this time less casual and more curious. The term 'a girl like you' irked me slightly, but that was thanks to being teased as a child. I'd been essentially a bastard but a wealthy bastard nonetheless and the kids around me didn't appreciate it.

"Ma was a servant. Servants have to hem clothes and I was a...curious child." I shrugged, forcing myself not to get irritated with this arrogant lad.

"A servant?" He sounded as though he didn't believe me, which I didn't really care about as I stood.

"Yeah." I stretched lightly, making sure not to move my hand too much considering it was still bleeding quite a bit.

"Interesting." He seemed to mumble to himself as he put out his cigarette and stood from his place as well, moving in front of me. We seemed to do a once over of each other, my eyes tracked along his black hair and high cheek bones before he nodded at me and walked away. I glanced at him as he exited, slapping on his hat before he left the building entirely.

"Where'd Tommy go?" Harry came back right as the man left, making me raise a brow.

"Tommy who?" I furrowed my brow as I tried to rack my brain on the name Tommy...nothing. I had no idea who Tommy was. Was he the guy that just left?

"Thomas Shelby, the man that was sittin' right 'ere..." He trailed off, motioning to the place where the bloke had just left.

"I dunno, he just left." I shrugged, my hands beginning to play with the edge of my gray button up as Harry seemed to sigh and shake his head.

"Right, well...lets just go over the books." He started back towards the room he'd just left and I took that as my cue to follow him back. I did so with quick motions but the feeling of annoyance didn't leave. I didn't run from a bloody gangster just to do the books for another one...no matter how interested he was in my sewing talents.


	3. Chapter 3

Days turned into weeks and I hadn't been awoken by the sound of police breaking down my door in the middle of the night...in fact...I don't think I'd seen any police actually doing their jobs the entire time I was here.

Everyone looked the other way for the Shelby gang, and it was ever so slightly irritating because it felt like a bloody waste of England's funds. They'd all been paid off by the leader, Thomas I think. He had a quiet arrogance to him. It was like he didn't  _need_  to say anything because thats how much better than everyone he was.

The silent arrogance wasn't as bad as when he'd turned his eyes towards me and he did so often. Sometimes I didn't notice him at first, watching me over a glass of whiskey or something else but then it was all I could do to not just scream at him to stop looking at me.

I couldn't blend in anywhere apparently, it didn't help that my hair was a flaming red but still, I just stared back. He didn't seem to sleep much at all. Dark circles under his eyes and jumpy movements every so often.

His staring wasn't so bad when his brothers were around, an older and younger one, I think. I only paid attention to them when I had to answer a question or something. The elder, Arthur, irritated me to no end. He kept on about me hopping into his bed until I'd snapped on him, I bloody lost it and screamed that he could suck his own dick. That earned some sort of respect, I guess, because Arthur stopped after that round of screamin.

But...there had been times Thomas tried pressuring me for straight answers, though I was respectful or cheeky enough to keep him off my trail.

_Servant for who?  
No one you'd know, Mr Shelby._

_When were you born?_  
About...yay years ago.  
 _Thats not a very lady-like hand gesture for your employer._  
 _Not nice to ask a lady 'ow old she is either, now is it?_

And there were other times that I blew my lid once or twice. He just kept pushing and insulting me, I was a bastard but I wasn't a bloody floosie...that might be a bit of a trigger point for me but if he knew enough details, he'd find Anne Bonney.

_"Were you a whore?" He was casual, always so fuckin' casual when he decided to pop into the office and chat me up. Correction, when he popped into the office for my daily interrogation._

_"No...I wasn't a bloody_ **_hoor_ ** **.** _Normal women elsewhere don't just go around and sell themselves unlike they do here in your pint of a town." Anger was making my hand twitch, just begging for me to just pick up this pen and stab it into his bloody arm._

_"We all sell different parts of our selves." He shrugged, still blowing enough smoke to create a cloudy office._

_"And what do I sell then?" I raised a brow, still gripping the pen with some ferocity. Stabbing a gang leader isn't how you live for a good while, Anne._

_"Well..." He inhaled deeply and released his breath in the next second, "You're sellin' skills in maths right now, skills that a servant girl wouldn't have, but its not what you're sellin' that I'm interested in."_

_"Fascinating. What are you selling then?" I sat back, crossing my arms over my chest as I held onto the pen. It felt like he'd done this just to get a rise out of me, to fill in another little box next to my name and list of things he knew about me. Flustered? Nope. Not in your life, sweetheart._

_"I'm selling...intrigue and luck." He declared as he stood, going for the door but not before he stopped and blew out another billow of smoke. I tightened my grip on the pen, ignoring the wet sensation on my elbow._

_"By the way, you've got ink on your sleeve, Anne." He threw that over his shoulder carelessly using my name between us as a sign of some sort of intimacy. I'd never given him permission for that and it wasn't as though we were friends._

_"I knew that." I practically shouted it back at him and I swear I heard the smallest of chuckles as the door shut behind him. Bloody gangsters._

"Anne!" Harry shouted my name, startling me as I raised a brow. I'd stopped my writing in the book, well...I'd stopped the smiling face I'd been adding into the 00's. The thought made me smile but the man who kept creeping up on me gave me little

"Yes?" I eyed him with little humour as he seemed annoyed.

"Which book is that?" He motioned towards the brown leather book of numbers I'd been writing in, receipts, costs, refunds...everything went in. This was the mostly legal book.

"The mainly legal one." I rolled my eyes as he seemed relieved.

I'm not sure what it was, but ever since Mr Shelby had continued to drop in every day, Harry had begun keeping an even closer eye on me...if that were possible. Either they got rid of the less than legal book from in here or they just let me read through it. They couldn't just keep it here and not let me read it, I mean...the more nervous Harry got, the more I wanted to read it.

"Right, okay. See you out front tonight then." Harry nodded and toddled off towards the bar once he'd been assured that I wasn't up to anything except adding and subtracting legal purchases and sells. That had been the regiment since I'd gotten here, books in the afternoons and then I'd help out in the evenings in the main room.

"See ya then." I'd become well acquainted with the regulars, though they'd only tried hitting on me the first night...it didn't go so well afterwards.

Some idiot named Dawyer had the bright idea to grab my arse once more but I couldn't stop the reaction I'd had. It'd all went by so fast, I felt his hand go over my rear. I'd spun around to match his grin with some eyes in the shape of slits before I smashed the beer glass I'd had in my hand over his head. My temper had just snapped but I didn't get the chastising I'd expected.

Dawyer just sort of crumbled and I remembered how loudly his head had banged onto the table he'd been leaning on. The silence had dragged on as I'd muttered something about not being able to hold his liquor like a true Irishmen, that got the men cheering and the noise resumed once more.

"Come in." I yelled at the sound of door knob twisting with some annoyance. People didn't really knock around here, they just sort of came in without any warning, and I was about done with it. I sat with my back to the door so if someone really wanted to sneak up on me, they could do it and I'd be none the wiser until my throat got sliced.

"Mornin'. Hows the papers?" I twisted around at the sound of Shelby's voice as I picked up the paper he reached for. I'd snatched away right as he tried for it with some mirth in my eyes, that quickly fell away to a sort of mock seriousness.

"Its nearly three in the afternoon, Shelby." My retort forced an eye brow to quirk up as his eyes darted between the newly healed hand that nearly crushed the racing newspapers and my face of haughtiness.

"I'm a busy man at night." He sighed as he appeared to have resigned himself to getting a lecture out of me. I watched him light a cigarette as he elected to lean against the wall for the oh-so precious moment's I'd take out of his day.

"Whys that?" I crossed one leg over the other as I moved to actually read the papers. I'd forgotten to today, but I'm pretty sure that really the only reason he'd had me reading them was that I had a couple of lucky guesses and he wanted input from my 'lucky senses'.

"Somethin' about the night that makes me feel better about what I'm doin', Anne. Any more questions or do you have a horse for me?" He raised a brow, blowing out a plume of smoke off to the side.

I rolled my eyes after I'd pulled the paper back up and began scanning through the sections. I had the sinking feeling that these other horses or their owners didn't last very long once I'd named them. The first time, he figured I was just being an ass but then the horse I'd named, Lilly, she'd won.

"No horses today." I shrugged as I folded the paper down, holding it out to him. He didn't take it for a moment, instead choosing to inspect me for a good minute before he took another drag off of his cigarette.

"Ever been to a fair?" He was still making  _a lot_ of eye contact as I slowly shook my head. Out of all the things I was expecting him to say or ask, this was not one of them. The way his eyes held mine still pushed images of a callous and calculating reptile that was just waiting for his moment to strike, I just didn't know what was going to happen when he did.

"No." I spoke in a slow tone, I didn't want to let him see how I confused I was right now. His eyes dropped down to where I'd crossed my legs as he seemed to just nod to himself.

"Wear a dress tomorrow." He took the papers finally, dropping his eyes down to read the statistics they'd all vomited out at once. I straight up stared at him, irked that he'd try and tell me what to bloody wear. In fact, I was in the process of opening my mouth and cussing him out when he spoke up again but this time his eyes looked a little livelier. 

"For once, eh?" His tone was lightly teasing and I watched as he almost winked as he left. I was...astounded? Confused?

"No promises." I replied easily, more easy than I actually felt right now. Right now, it felt like I'd been asked to wear a nice hat to my execution. I swallowed heavily, trying not to have a bit of an attack from my nerves building up and up and up in my brain.

* * *

"Idiotic thing." I huffed at the pink dress I'd yanked out of my bag. I didn't have much with me, and so far I couldn't afford to buy anything else as well as eat and live here. I'd left in such a hurry...I'd left literally an entire shop and house of things behind. I tugged at the side of the stupid thing and it didn't quite help, I didn't even have a hat to stick on my head.

"Anne? Tommy said to go to 'is house before, when boy?" I heard Harry's voice yell up the stairs at me as I fussed about with the dress. I didn't like dresses, they felt constricting and I could move much without being indecent.

"Now!" A younger voice startled me lightly, it sounded like a little boy...or possibly a girl. Its hard to tell before they began wanting to hump each other.

"Right, right. I'm coming." I sighed, grabbing the brown sack I'd decided I couldn't risk leaving here. A gun wasn't odd for a gangster to have but...for a barmaid/accountant in the gangster's employment to have? That was odd.

"Miss Cormac?" A smaller boy, maybe 10 or 11 years old peered up at me with curious blue eyes. I nodded slowly and he took no time in grabbing my hand and attempting to pull me down the stairs. I was a bit confused and alarmed, alarmed that I was possibly being tricked by the Shelbys and they were using a child to lure me away...actually that'd be ingenious.

"Where are we going?" I gave a pleading look to Harry who seemed to just pity me, sighing and shaking his head. I knew the Shelbys were suspicious of me, an Irish girl with no backstory or friends just showed up out of the blue with vague answers and a unoriginal name. I was nigh untraceable unless you went after Anne Bonney...which would be hard to do since I'd never informed them of my actual name.

"Home, of course." I had literally no idea who this kid was or where we were going outside of the fact that it was his home? Terrific.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh, tsch. Wheres your nice dress?" A taller woman with curly brown hair and bright red lipstick opened the door, looking almost scandalized at what the smaller boy had brought home. I couldn't tell if this was a tart or the family matriarch by the flashiness and confidence of the woman as she scrutinized me. I ran my hand under my bags strap, making sure it still weighed the same as it had when I'd left...I didn't put it past the boy not to steal.

"This is my nice dress? Its not like I can afford anything else at 55 pence a week, now can I?" Okay! That was a little more rude than I wanted to come off, especially to a woman I'd just met but seriously, I was doing my best on what wages I had.

"...55 pence a week?" The woman tilted her head, peering at me for a second before she looked quite angry. "Thats little enough to eat every night."

"I know." I replied a little more sour than I meant to be. I really needed to dial back the animosity here.

"That simply won't do." She shook her head as she began motioning for me to come inside. I stepped warily as I followed her around a living room and into a kitchen with exposed brick walls, the child from before was sitting already with three men...Finn? I think she'd called the boy, Finn when we first walked up.

"Is that really the dress?" I could practically feel Shelby's despondent expression as I stared hard at the table, willing my cheeks not to turn red here.

"Thomas, you really expected her to dress nice on  _55_  pence a week?" She was scolding as she came to motion at my figure, I caught a glance over from Arthur and an approving nod by the other sibling. Jim? James? I can't recall his name, damn.

"Polly..." He seemed tired, more tired than usual and he smelled vaguely of alcohol from less than a meter away.

"No, you can't tell me you don't care for women's business when you've got a women  _in your_  business and she's not even getting paid enough to dress like one." She shook a single finger, making me the sudden center of attention. I was starting to get the feeling that my haggard appearance were just an excuse to piggy back a cause she'd been going for before I got here.

"Fine. She'll get six pounds a week then." Shelby was irritated as he waved off the older woman, Polly. On the other hand, my eyes nearly popped out of my own bloody head. That was a ridiculously high amount to get paid per week, higher than what Harry took home each week and he was the actual owner!

"Let's just settle at four. The Garrison can't do six pounds a week for a barmaid." I threw in awkwardly as Polly seemed to just pat my shoulder lightly with a small smile. Well...The Garrison couldn't do that based on the  _legal_ numbers.

"You've such a good heart. Tommy doesn't deserve you." She stared into my eyes for a bit too long, making me feel she was oddly affectionate for a woman I'd met about four minutes ago. So I just sort of stared at her for a second as her eyes seemed to log each bit of information about my appearance. She'd jumped from the brown of my eyes to the red of my hair, and then to my nose in the span of 30 seconds. What was her angle here? I mean...what was  _his_  angle here? Why would he invite a barmaid out to a fair?

"Um. Thanks." I nodded awkwardly as I wrapped a hand around my bag, still incredibly hesitant being in this house. I glanced around the room, eyeing the younger bloke who was practically drinking me in like an alcoholic in front of a cask of gin. I watched as his eyes slowly dragged down my figure and held back the strong urge to scoff at him.

It seemed like Shelby might have actually lived here...as in I was in his private home and I had a good feeling I'd find quite a bit of evidence to send the whole family to the clink. Not that I was going to do such a thing, of course. I was too worried I'd get sent every day I went to bed but it did give me some hope that if he finally figured it all out and took me down, I'd drag him down with me.

"Oh! I've just the thing, wait right here." She darted off suddenly, leaving me alone with the three men and the boy. Three out of the four were too enthralled in staring at the fire going in the fireplace in some sort of melancholic, war-torn haze. The fourth however, the one with a toothpick hanging out of his lips, was youthful enough and entirely too interested in me.

"Anne, yeh?" My eyes snapped towards his, and held them with some determination. I might be 110% uncomfortable right now, but I'd sure as hell not show it to the likes of him.

"Whats it to you?" Okay, a little too aggressive there. Rein it in, Anne.

"Bit of a bite there. I like 'em feisty." He grinned, moving the tooth pick across his lips. I crossed my arms across my chest without meaning too as I glowered at him.

"I think I'm a little too feisty for you, mate." I couldn't stop the disgust in my throat from curling my lips back at how strongly he was coming onto me.

"John...not today." Shelby spoke up as a cloud of smoke rose above him. I didn't smoke and I didn't tend to look down on those who did but I swear to God, those are going to kill him one day. John had opened his mouth but closed it again, looking displeased as having been interrupted by what I had to assume was his brother.

"Here we are!" Polly had returned with enthusiasm, handing me a hat quickly.

"What's this for?" I stared at it for a second before I glanced back up at her.

"Well if we had more time, I'd try to fix up that mane but a hat will do for now." She declared as I gingerly ran a few fingers through the curled mess of my hair. It wasn't as curly as hers but it was a mess all the same, and for a moment I felt like my mother had come back from the grave which made me even more uncomfortable.

"Thanks." I cleared my throat as I slipped it onto my head quickly, trying to spend as little time on the action as possible.

"Anything else?" Shelby stood finally, looking a bit bored with the scene as the woman next to me sighed.

"You boys better keep an eye on 'er." She took on the scary mum roll again suddenly, making me swallow hard. Please, God. If you're listening...get me out of here.

"Right. Lets go then." I eyed the man who I'd come to know as my boss for a good while now with some gratefulness as I began making my way towards the door with some speed.

* * *

I was astounded that we'd ridden in an actual car to get to a fair but when we got to said 'fair', I realised what this actually was and all amazement with their car fell away. I didn't see anything but a large brick building to store and showcase horses. Great,  _m_ _ore_ horses.

Grumpiness set in while we walked closer, as I deduced that I'd been taken along not as a favour to me but, because Shelby believed I had some sort of special sense for knowing which horses would win races and which wouldn't. I'd gone off on a bet a few times and I'd been right, I wasn't a bloody horse whisperer or some shite.

"Aw, come on. Not even a little bit of a smile? You're supposed to be falling over from excitement right now." The bloke I'd sat next too was elbowing me, breaking me from the stew I'd been brewing in my head.

"Am I supposed to be smiling? Its a bunch of rich arseholes betting on horses." I raised a brow, noting the mustache and realising that his name was Arthur as he let out a bark of laughter. He'd introduced himself my first week in The Garrison, drunk as all hell and stumbling to the bar but he attempted to be charming nonetheless, all of which made for a great sight.

"Most ladies smile when they're in my company, y'know?" He snorted.

"I think that might be the booze getting in your head." I kept the stony face as I scoffed at that and shook my head, it felt like a bit of a tantrum but I was allowed that. I'd been picked up to pick out horses and I had all of zero experience with it. If I messed up, I'd likely get a knife in the back considering these were gangsters. I should have kept my mouth shut and my head down.

"'Ey, Tommy! You're not doing too well at entertaining your bird! Y'might lose 'er!" He shouted a little too loudly for my ear at Shelby's back. I ignored the possession he'd added in, as well as the nickname I'd gotten, and choose to stare stonily forwards.

"She'll be fine 'till she gets to bid on some horses." Shelby yelled back as came down to the end of the hallway. I'd been lost in here if it weren't for these guys leading me about, but I was taken aback by the large arena filled with dirt and sand.

Several other groups were here already, standing and chatting while they waited for the show to start. They all looked much higher up on the social ladder than me or my companions, but as I glanced at the Shelby's I noticed they all had the same sort of intimidating presence as the better dressed folks. They all stood tall with squared shoulders and intense stares at the possible competition.

"So, you always want to be on the top ring at these." I nearly jumped out of my skin as I heard Shelby's advice in my ear just suddenly appear like the bloody ghost of Christmas past or something.

"Why?" I raised a brow, as I turned for the railing and groaned internally as my bag clanged into the metal railing. My eyes were staring forwards as hard as I could, despite the calculating gaze I felt on the side of my face.

I could feel the edge of my dress tickling my shins and forced my lips to hold back a deep sigh, if I had to run here, I'd die. I don't know  _why_  I'd have to run here, in my own dry humour I wondered if it might be because Shelby finally figured out that all I did was guess and he'd push me over the railing.

"Look over there." He leaned closer and pointed across the ring to an area that I had to assume was where the horses would be coming in.

"You see all the stalls and everything?" I nodded as I followed his finger, listening to the drawl of his words with mild fascination.

"Rich men are looking for the best kept horses, so people bet on 'em, ay?" I pursed my lips at the thought that we'd possibly be doing the opposite if he did run a betting shop. Wouldn't they make more money if more people bet on the wrong horse? I pondered if that was actually how betting worked, or if I'd gotten confused.

"So we're looking for the horses that no one wants?" I suggested quietly as I felt a stare on the side of my face. I glanced quickly at Shelby, expecting to be chastised or something to happen that gave me the same sense of fear that everyone else had for the guy but...nothing happened. In fact, he actually had the look of a proud teacher that quickly disappeared as I leaned on the railing to focus on the empty area below us.

"Thats exactly right, Anne." He was quieter this time. I saw him lean on the railing just as I had, out of the corner of my eye and almost laughed to myself. He'd actually not asked me yet another personal question today, not even in the car! Today might actually be fun despite the earlier deception on his part. 


	5. Chapter 5

Horses came and went as I mumbled little vague pieces of information to Shelby who nodded and took them in stride. I was honestly quite surprised he'd take the word of a woman whatsoever but, I reminded myself of the woman earlier. Polly, I think. She'd definitely been someone that Shelby respected enough to listen too and even take a scolding from.

With mirth in my soul and a small smile playing on my lips, I watched as Shelby drove up the prices for most and bid on some of the better looking horses I'd seen so far. He was playing a game, I'd realised, a game that included irritating everyone else and getting what he wanted in the process. I let out a small chuckle as he finally stopped trying to out bid the man, he glanced back and actually grinned as he laughed along with me for a second.

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

He actually looked... _human,_  and not even just human at that. I was enthralled in just how free he was for that short second, his shoulders relaxed and his elbow close enough to just barely touch my own while he had fun just pissing around with rich upper-class men. This wasn't good at all, if he was human, he could be attractive and if he could be attractive then I'd need to get out of here sooner than I'd anticipated.

I swallowed heavily, moving slightly away from the Shelby next to me but I just hoped that he didn't notice it. I glanced across the arena instead to spot a woman with short brown hair eyeing the Shelby next to me with undisguised interest. My lips fell into a straight line, pressed together out of fear I'd do something a little too overzealous just to spite some rich woman.

"Come on, we'll go and get a good look at the new boy." His voice was almost startling as I forced myself out of the anxiety that threatened to build. I cleared my throat and nodded quickly, striding off to go in some direction that looked like it could go downstairs. He wasn't mine, he wasn't even close. He was just another gangster that would sooner shoot me in the back as help me up off the ground.

"Anne?" A hand wrapped itself loosely around my waist, as though it'd tried to touch me as decently as possible despite the fact that I wasn't married to it's owner and he was touching me.

"Aye?" I raised a brow, attempting to look haughty. I had the sinking feeling that I was going the wrong way but that his brothers had also seen our closeness thanks to the whistles behind us.

"This way." His voice was lower but not gravelly like he was angry, more that he was holding back laughter at my expense. I frowned at that but I was more distracted by some cramps in my lower half, it was soon to be that time of the month again and I wasn't happy about that either.

"I knew that." I mumbled while I allowed the hand to guide me towards another door that I pushed open as soon as I possibly could. I was sorry to say that I noticed the exact moment that Shelby's hand fell away from my middle. I kept repeating the word 'Shelby' in my head, reminding myself of the formality and the fact that he was a gangster. He couldn't possibly be  _that_  human, there wasn't a good apple in the bunch of them.

* * *

"I've got it." I called to Harry as I leaned the broom up against a pillar to answer the door. We'd been catching up on the cleaning while we were still closed but I had a couple of ideas as to who would be knockin' on The Garrison's door this early in the day. My mind bouncing between a member of the Shelby family or a lost drunk were over when I opened the door to find a stocky man with brown eyes and messy hair. I glanced between the large brown box he was holding, and a tool chest of sorts he was just barely hanging onto.

"I'm here to install a telephone?" His posture and tightening in his face read out that he was nervous to even be here right now. I couldn't place his accent though, despite the drawl. It wasn't anywhere near here nor Ireland or Scotland. Maybe Wales? I hadn't been up there or knew anyone from there...did people even live there? I thought it possible that the whole place might just have sheep in it.

"Oh, of course. Right this way." I smiled softly at him as I realised he was just standing there, waiting for me to make a move. I stepped back to allow him into the empty bar as he moved slowly with the lumbering load. I saw Harry's head pop out of the back room for a quick moment and disappear again from the corner of my eye as I shooed the nervous worker into the room.

"Uhm, it'll be needing a wall on the outside and uh...space." I pursed my lips as I tried to mentally pick a spot in the back office for it with his specifications in mind.

"Right. Follow me then." I nodded to myself mainly as I led the way to the office and opened the door for him. I had a feeling I'd be stuck back here until he was done with the installation since we had some less than reputable evidence in the room currently.

The leader of the Shelby clan had decided I was trustworthy enough to take a look at his shop's books after the auction some weeks ago but, I didn't feel comfortable enough to just sit in his house and do the numbers. Polly had a tendency to just appear in whatever room I stood in, quickly coming in as an off-putting mothering hen and offering me food or tea. That wasn't even the strangest thing about her, she kept calling me Anna no matter how many times me or anyone else said my name was actually Anne.

"This wall looks right." I blinked at the uneasy man, noticing that he'd put everything down and was now nodding towards a wall to the right of my desk.

"Then...install away, my good sir." I chuckled a bit at my lack of knowledge with these things called telephones. I didn't know of anyone who had one, they were expensive, bulky, and seemingly useless to me.

He nodded again but said nothing this time as he began going to work on the wall. I busied myself with clearing up the desk, picking up loose pieces of paper I'd used to add and subtract larger numbers and crumbling them while his metal chest opened with a screeching noise. I think I've discovered a noise that irritated me more than the sound of Shelby's smug voice.

Eventually I just took a seat, playing with the bottom of my shirt in between glances at the lad who was focused on his work. He couldn't be that old but his hands were calloused and his skin had a bit of a pallor to it, making me wonder if I should really be this close to him. He might be sick and I was in such a good mood today since there hadn't been a Shelby to just pop in at their convenience. It'd be just my lu-

"So you're a barmaid here?" I paused my fingers for a moment, surprised he was making conversation. I took a second to respond as I came out of my thoughts and thought out a coherent sentence.

"Yeah, have been for quite some time now." I shrugged, releasing the hem of my shirt to lean on the desk next to me while I gazed back at the man who nodded to himself again. I'd gotten here in early April, and it was almost September now. It'd started getting colder up in my apartment, which reminded me to search for thicker blankets in the stores near by. I made a mental note that I'd do that this weekend, it never hurt to be prepared in my book.

"I just got to the area but uh, I must say I'm surprised that someone as..." He hesitated, making my curiosity spike. I tilted my head at him as he just stopped speaking entirely, picking up his hammer. He dropped it, a loud clang erupted in the small space but I didn't jump for once.

"As what? Young? Irish?" I tried cracking a joke but it didn't seem to work as his pale cheeks turned pink while he shook his head.

"No, no. I was going to say someone as pretty as you but I didn't want to step over any lines." He spoke quickly, I almost didn't hear his words as he began hammering something into the wall. I don't think I've gotten a genuine compliment since I'd been in Small Heath, men at The Garrison had a tendency to avoid me after I'd smashed a glass over a blokes head.

"Well, thanks. Thats the first compliment I've gotten in months." I spoke up again after he'd stopped bangin' about, a genuine smile creased my cheeks at that.

"Thats not right. A lady like you should be gettin' lots of them." He made eye contact for a second, a shy delighted sheen glittered back at me but oddly enough I really only focused on the fact that his eyes were just as brown as mine. For some reason I'd expected them to be blue. Maybe I was sick already, my head was obviously in the clouds today.

"Where are you from?" I was inquisitive, more so than I probably should be for my own good but that was a common problem of mine. My curiosity and my temper always got me into trouble.

"Uh. South Carolina but, my mom was from England." His phrasing, particularly the fact he said she  _was_  from England had me frowning. His head turned down again as he crouched to pick up what I had to assume was another nail.

"My ma was from Belfast, she died from Typhoid when I was 'bout 13." I wanted to smack myself for casually dropping such an intimate detail to a random labourer but I'd done it in some attempt to connect with the American. I don't even know why I bothered. He'd be just another complication in my life.

"I'm sorry. Mine passed about a year ago, her lungs just couldn't keep up with her." The look of empathy in his eyes was addicting, it felt like I was actually near someone who could understand me. He didn't try and figure me out or pity me, he didn't order me about, he was just listening and surprisingly sharing his pain with a near stranger.

"I'm George." He came closer and stuck out a hand to me, I hesitated for a second.

"Anne." I decided I'd try this out, and that maybe I'd have a friend in Small Heath. I shook his hand roughly, noticing how calloused his hands were and that I was likely holding his hand a little harder than he had with mine.

"Maybe I'll drop by for a drink, Anne." His smile was more natural looking, a bit of yellowed teeth shone under his thin lips. I dropped his hand and even found myself returning his smile, as he took a step back and returned to his work.

"That'd be lovely." I nodded, watching him continue to bang another nail into the wall with only the sound of the hammer going between us.

Conversation flowed easily between George and I, he even carefully instructed me on how to dial up a number before he left. I'd learned he was 31 and he'd grown up in the Americas, used to farming but interested in doing some work in the factories here.

His father was a farmer, and his father before him was also a farmer, which I laughed a bit at that. He didn't even find my laughter rude, in fact he'd chuckled a bit with me.

I felt like I made a friend, even though I withheld a lot of my own background information from him. I only mentioned the same details I'd said to Shelby in the past out of the fear this conversation would some how make it back to the man.


	6. Chapter 6

I kept glancing at the door every time it opened, hoping for George but instead I just found myself getting less and less excited as each new comer disappointed me. It wasn't too busy tonight, a football game was in progress and most of the men had already stopped by for drinks in modestly sized groups. So, I got put behind the bar for once, I don't think I'd ever been back here but Harry decided he wanted to go and watch the game too.

"Looking for someone?" I heard the click of a lighter and an inhale before I realised Shelby had been watching me. My eyes slid across to see his stoic eyes, I stared at him for a second. I was considering if I should even bother responding when he raised a brow at my silence.

"Forgot to mention it earlier, phone got installed today." It felt like it was in my best interests to steer the conversation away from anything to do with my personal life.

"Terrific." He inhaled a long drag from his cigarette. I watched him for a moment longer, he even held an inanimate object between his fingers that he obviously loved in a detached manner. The two fingers it sat behind were limp, but not limp enough to drop the thing.

"Now if we knew anyone else that had a phone, we could call them." I added after I cleared my throat. I spent too much time considering the actions and thoughts of the ever elusive Thomas Shelby.

The door opened again, dragging my eyes to inspect the two men that came through with some ferocity. I felt a tinge of disappointment settle in my chest and focused on wiping down the counter again. He said he'd come, but he didn't say when. Was I wrong to expect him to drop by so soon?

"Perhaps we could call that bloke you're waiting on..." He observed with mild disinterest, irritating me. If he was going to bother deducing that much about me, why not just show he was clearly interested in what I was doing?

"Charming." I dead-panned, hoping to not give away anything too personal. He chuckled as he shook his head at me, a little darkly for my tastes. I didn't care to glance back at him before he took another hit by the sounds of it.

"I can charm dogs." He noted, I furrowed my brow at that as he put out the depleted cigarette.

"Gypsy witchcraft." Apparently, he could feel my confusion from across the bar without even looking at me.

"And those I can't charm I can kill with my own hands." My mouth went dry as he finally looked up at me, crossing his hands on top of the bar. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to feel aroused or threatened and honestly, I sort of felt both mashed up into one mess. The way his face set entirely still with only the raise of a brow told me that this was a bluff, the signal came from some where in the stupid part of my brain that controlled my mouth.

"I bet you say that to all the ladies, Mr Shelby." I couldn't tell who was more surprised by what just came out of my mouth, but I had a feeling it was just me. I kept a smirk somehow all the while, my mind raced with the possibility that I'd not only stepped over boundaries, I'd hit them with a train and kept on going.

"So far just you, Anne." Shelby, on the other hand, just raised a brow while the corner of his lips threatened to jump up into a small smile. I'd amused him, I supposed. The door opened again and he lost all of my attention as my eyes darted to the door, scanning over the familiar messy hair and stocky build. I watched his eyes glance around the room, his shoulders were hunched over as he did so.

"What can I get for you?" I leaned on the bar, holding the same dirty rag in my hands when George walked up. He looked severely out of place which said something considering he resembled the build of a man who liked to drink his weight in alcohol.

"Uh, whats good?" He gave me a small smile, his eyes lingering on mine for a second before he glanced at the selection on the shelves behind me.

"I'm rather particular to the Irish whisky." I tilted my head, analysing him. Well I preferred that when I drank, which I did so rarely. I had a bit of a problem with  _not_  going overboard on it. Once I'd started, it was difficult to get me to stop until I passed out and I couldn't afford to have my defenses down these days. Such as the consequences of my past violent transactions.

"I'll take some of that then." I nodded at him and bent down, searching for a bottle that I felt was opened the earliest. Harry seemed to have the unfortunate habit of opening bottles and not closing them properly. I know alcohol kills off most things but I swear I could see dust floating in some of 'em.

"Here ya are." I gave him a smile as I popped back up with a bottle uncorked in one hand and a relatively clean glass in another hand.

"Interesting accent you've got there." I'd actually forgotten about Shelby sitting right there when George walked in, and I fought to keep the fear off of my face as he spoke to him. I stared hard at the drink I poured, willing myself not to lose my temper and willing Shelby not to try and intimidate the man into submission like he had with almost every other bloke in the bar.

"Yeah, I was telling Anne here about it earlier. I came out of South Carolina." George sounded like he was at ease which confused me, where did the hesitant man go from a minute ago?

"Oh? You know our Anne?" Shelby's eyes drifted towards me in his mockery of surprise.

"Shes a doll." I almost blushed at that, but I stopped out of worry of what it'd bring in terms of Shelby's desperate need to figure everything out about me. I wanted to keep him in the dark, just to spite him.

"Mm. That she is, did you two grow up together? You seem close." I watched as Shelby leaned back from George, turning to fully face him, from the corner of my eye.

"No uh...we-" George started as I laughed a little loudly to cut him off.

"Of course we didn't grow up together, Mr Shelby. We've just met!" I started, shaking my head as though this was all in good humour.

"Oh, Tommy will do. I'm sure we're past formalities by now, Anne." The tone of his words left little to be desired, if anything it felt like he was trying to insinuate there was something more going on than the reality of Shelby and I.

"Considering you're just my boss, I think  _Mr Shelby_  will do." I pursed my lips, a straight line of irritation as George just sort of glanced between us. I cut my eyes to the bane of my existence in a glare who just returned the eye contact with a look of indifference.

I had a feeling George was starting to act as the odd one out despite the fact that I'd actually invited him to come, in a way. I was struggling to reinforce the line of formality between us but he was making it extraordinarily difficult.

"Um. Good choice, Anne." George cleared his throat as he attempted to mend the conversational rift that I'd created with the help of Shelby.

"No problem." I was gracious enough for his help, though I spotted a man in the back waving his glass at me. Right, I still had an actual job to do. I dropped my cleaning rag and went over to take the gent's orders in a hurry.

"Three...uh. Scottish whiskies." A smaller man with a red face ordered for him and his mates. Considerate. Especially since the rest of them wouldn't look at me.

"Right." I heard the door open and shut and looked up. Someone had left but who knows who? I didn't really care. I just wanted to get back to the bar but I needed to clean the next table first.

I bent over, picking up the single glass and pondered that the drinker had to be lonely. He'd been all by himself, obviously. That was awful feeling, I knew that from experience but I made my peace with it since it seemed like I'd have a reprieve.

Standing again, the glass in tow, I made my way back to the bar with my eyes straying to where George was...he was gone? He was the one who had left? Seriously? I'd made my peace with being lonely but the possibility of a friend had excited me. I'd been  _hopeful_. I can't remember the last time I actually had hope in my head.

Wordlessly, I filled the glasses and brought back to the table. I left the bottle and received a chorus of thanks but I said nothing. I was focused on keeping a schooled cool expression. This was why I didn't try making connections, they left me with nothing every time I tried.

"Another one, Anne." That crisp voice cut through my gloom, forcing my eyes to meet his with some resistance.

"Here." I didn't want to serve the bastard and he knew it as his lips curled into a small smile when I slammed down his bottle of gin. He could fill it himself, little shit.

"He was...interesting. Didn't take him for your type though." Shelby's voice made me want to box my ears repeatedly, but I swallowed and bared it.

"And what is my type then?" I scooped the change off the bar, turning around to open the register.

"I figured you'd go more for the daring kind." I paused after I'd pulled the drawer open, silently fuming. He was always so-so bloody knowing when he spoke to me and a small part of me envied him for it. I could read, I could write, I could even play the bloody piano, thanks to my da, but it felt like I'd never come close to his level with the way he acted. Okay, you're just letting him rattle you, Anne. Stop that.

"Daring gets you killed." I retorted as I dropped the change into the drawer and slammed it shut with more force than I'd meant.

"Lots of things can get you killed." He snorted as I turned back 'round and picked up my dirty rag again.

"Is that why you like to roll the dice all the time?" I raised a brow, leaning back on the shelves behind the bar. I was worried that if I got close, I'd find my hand wrapped around his bloody collar to drag him over the bar and scream at him. He drove George away, it had to be him.

"I'm a betting man, but I do have morals." He shrugged as he pulled out a silver box from his jacket. I watched him for a moment, admiring the shine of the piece before he pulled out another cigarette. It proved he obviously cared about it, the silver had been taken care of enough to the point I couldn't see any scratches or dings.

"Morals like what, always kick them when they're down?" I dragged my eyes back to his as he bent his head down to light the stick of wrapped tobacco.

"Nope." He shook his head, as he stored the tin and his lighter back into his jacket. "Family is everything, you know."

"Right, like you wouldn't trade your family for a bit of gold." I scoffed, eyeing him with contempt.

"I know your opinion of me is likely in the gutter, but my family is everything to me. I'd have killed myself without them." He put the cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly. The oddest feeling that he was actually sincere right now floated over me, baffling me. I turned my head away from him, gazing down at the now empty bar.

"Who knew?" I mumbled to myself as I dealt the the realization that he had any sort of feelings. My image of gangsters had always been marred by the fact that they seemed to care about nothing but themselves. Selfishness drove them to power, cutting down anyone or anything that stood in the way of their payday. They'd always seemed so...arrogant and self-concerning that they had little remorse or care for anyone else in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for an...exciting chapter next time? It'll probably be exciting. This was more of a character growth one than anything else.


	7. Chapter 7

I breathed heavily through a shawl I'd fashioned out of a cloak I'd stuffed into my bag at one point before I left London. I was cold and nervous but still quite irate from last night.

It felt like any chance of a friend had been wrecked to hell and back by Shelby. Why was he so determined to isolate me? Did he even know what he was doing? He probably did, the man rubbed me the wrong way but he was smart about it and I couldn't compete with his methods.

George had left rather quickly after our tense conversation, so quickly in fact that I didn't even see him leave. I left to go wait on one table and clean another only to come back and find George gone, his glass still mainly full and a fistful of coins on the bar. Shelby said nothing, and I didn't bother questioning him. Instead I simply ignored him despite the amount of questions.

I know that gangsters were still technically people but...I felt like maybe they were a sort of lower class person? Like one that didn't need to have any access to other people due to their violent and selfish natures. I'd read about a condition called Sociopathic by some German biologist, it seemed applicable to gangsters. But...Thomas Shelby was an outlier. He didn't fit the box.

Glancing at the end of the alleyway, I breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that I only had another minute or two of wandering through the disgusting maze. I'd been recommended to go this way by the Shelbys if I wanted to be left alone by coppers.

I might need a coat or another cloak, one that as warmer because I could barely feel my fingers right now. There were a lot more options now that I had enough pay to live off of and actually thrive. Maybe a nice blu-

Hands wrapped around my throat and jerked me backwards. I forced a scream out of my throat until something clamped down, effectively shutting me down. The scream had torn through my throat like a rough shard of glass, my eyes widened and my heart began beating out of control.

I could hear it echoing back in my ears, thump,thump thump. It was the pulse of a desperate, terrified, human being. I fought to figure out the shape of my murder weapon, grunting with what little air I had to get away from it. An arm. It wa-

Air squeezed out of my lungs as I began to panic. The term Fuck! and Can''t breathe! became the single set of words hit all the alarm bells I've ever had as I scratched at the arm. I dug my nails in hard as I could to try and slip my hands under what looked to be an elbow in my panic. Life felt as thought it was going in slow motion despite the panic and the cry building in my throat.

"Stop it!" I could see a dark wall facing me, but the gruff voice didn't ring any bells. I couldn't see who it was or why they'd do this to me but they'd let up for a second when my nails dug in, and I screamed again.

I screamed as loud as I could, begging that someone would hear me. I'd take any one at all right now. Briefly, I wondered if this was me getting my dues for being a bastard. As if that was something God cared about. No. He couldn't be that awful, right?

I jerked forwards. He pulled me back easily. No one is coming. I'm good as dead if I don't fight my way out. Fight, Anne. FIGHT.

Raking my boot as hard as I could down his shin, I tried to pull against him when his arm eased up. My head connected with the wall and bounced off of it, a pretty solid hit if I do say so myself but I got a breath of air in and tumbled. I hit the gravel and a second later my legs and arms forced me to crawl, the familiar taste of blood in my mouth.

"You're not getting away again!" The sound of his snarling behind me echoed but it didn't last long before I was snapped up again. Faintly, I could hear the sound of cloth ripping and felt the cold on my right shoulder.

All the air was knocked out of my lungs from the force of being yanked up by my stomach, another clamp on my breathing and I was never going to get away. I want to live! I need to live.

I tried to rake my boot again but this time I'd just been jerked up with my legs flailing as my arms tried to reach back behind me, I'd gouge out his eyes if I could. They were too short. My arms were too fucking short, I couldn't even feel his head.

Seconds ticked by into minutes as I flailed and thrashed to no avail.

My arms grew tired, my legs grew tired and I slowed. Flashes of light kept forcing themselves into my eyes so I closed them and felt myself falling away from it all but the lights didn't stop flashing. I was too tired to continue in this life, everyone I'd ever loved was dead. I lost the will to fight.

_Anney?_

I hadn't heard my mothers voice in nearly 14 years but I knew it was hers and I knew she was still dead. That didn't stop the feeling of feather light tendrils of air lifting me softly.

Even though I knew she wasn't here, it didn't stop me from feeling her hold me tightly. It felt so nice, her arms around my neck and back in a loving hug. I'd missed her so much. There was so much I wanted to ask her and tell her. Did she see me try to live? Was she prou-

"OI!" I didn't think I'd ever be so happy to hear another person until now, my eyes popped open at the sound of it and I was thrown to the ground.

Reality came crashing back as I fell back down, not even bothering to brace myself as I laid facing the dirty ground. I sucked in air greedily and coughed at the dust I'd sucked heart was still beating as hard as it could when I sat back up and turned around to make sure I was actually safe right now. I felt dizzy, it felt like minutes had passed but no one had really moved.

"Mr Shelby, I-" My eyes weren't' entirely focused on the two men going at it in front of me, but one was on top of the other, shouting obscenities and rubbing his...hat in the other guy's face? The latter just begged for mercy, apologising for whatever cowardly reason.

"Anne?" I blinked a bit as I stood with shaking legs, and a handful of gravel. My heart hadn't slowed down and my hands felt clammy but anger fueled a guttural scream when I clumsily ran at the crumpled body a meter away. He was going to pay, whoever he fuckin' was.

"WHAT THE FUCK? WHY?" I kicked him as hard as I could, throwing the handful of black rocks I had before I bent down to pick up another and another and another. I didn't want to stop, I wanted to make sure he'd scar or die from infection.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU FUCKIN' ARE?!" He didn't fight back, didn't respond to my shouting like a mad woman. Instead he was groaning each time my boots landed on his back and legs with blood trailing out of the slices taken out of of his face. What gave him the right to do that to me? What had I  _ever_  done to him?!

"Anne! Hey! Come on, hes down, hes down." When I went to take a step over him, to rub his face against the gravel, I was pulled back. I struggled weakly against a clothed chest, I could hear the fabric moving and the heavy breathing against my neck. I paused for a second, taking stock of how fast my heart was beating and how much my head hurt.

"I..." I started to try and explain myself but closed my mouth quickly to bend over at the waist. I felt bile rising through my hot and swollen throat, leaving through my mouth in a rush. A wet sound reached my ears as the wave of nausea passed, an acidic smell clouded my nostrils while I heaved for more air.

"You're alright, ey? Just a bit of a tussle." Hands rubbed my back once my body was done getting rid of everything in my stomach. I stood again to actually look at my victor. Sharp cheek bones, wide blue eyes, plump lips slightly open as he huffed. Thomas Shelby. Of course it was. I dragged my arm across my mouth, wiping the remaining strings of drool and vomit away.

"Why?" I could only get out a word before my lips puckered and tears forced their way out of my eyes in streams. What was wrong with me? I was terrified but angry but thankful for him. I'd gotten into fights as a kid but they were just that, children fighting. I wasn't snatched on my way to buy a bloody blanket.

"Oh Jesus, Anne. You're bleeding." He was mumbling, careful fingers touched my brow while I cried.

I'd gotten so close to being with my mother and it was all taken away! It hurt to breath, and my shoulders hurt, and my legs hurt, and I just wanted to go home now. My legs gave out from under me. I expected to plummet but instead I slowly fell back down to the ground, certainly by the strength of Thomas's arms.

"I'm sorry." I knew my body was shaking from the way my vision kept bobbing up and down but I couldn't feel it anymore as I blubbered to the most dangerous man in Small Heath. Relief flooded my limbs but I couldn't feel them either. I knew they were there, I could control them but I couldn't  _feel_  them any more. I might as well have had stones tied to my frame.

"You don't have to be sorry, I found you, alright? You're okay." He just kept rubbing my back with a pinched expression. It was almost unnatural to see him display such emotion through my tears so I turned my eyes downwards at the ground.

"Come on, lets just get you to the house." I could feel him trying to pull me up but no matter how hard I tried, my legs weren't cooperating. I gave up trying after a point and began shaking my head.

"Anne?" Knees dropped back down to Thomas' face, he seemed even more worried now but he tried to school his expression into familiar apathy.

"I can't, I-I just-" Forcing out words, my voice caught and it felt as though my throat closed up on me. Words wouldn't form anymore, leaving me to just cry and shake my head.

"Alright, uh, I'm just going to um. Pick you up." He debated for a bit, eventually nodding his head resolutely enough to match the determination behind his words. I gave no agreement to that, and no disagreement when he scooped my body up off the ground.

When we ducked out of the alley, I didn't notice and I'm not sure that I cared much about the staring bystanders. I'd let my head roll back against his chest out of exhaustion, faintly noting that he smelled of cigarettes and talcum powder.


	8. Chapter 8

"WELL HE CAN'T JUST GO ROAMIN' ABOUT, CAN 'E?" My eyes popped open, my entire body tensed as I recognized absolutely nothing surrounding me and a deep voice shouted up the stairs at me. A single lamp sat on the table next to me, faded strips of grey wallpaper surrounded me but there was a single window and a mirror hanging over a dresser on the far wall. I was in someone's bedroom, likely a man's gauging by the blade atop the wood dresser.

"Calm yourself!" A feminine voice hissed back, just barely above my ability to hear. I felt something hard near my hand under the pillow and reached for it, limply I held up a glass pipe and inspected it for a second. I was at a loss as to what it's purpose was until I smelled it. A familiar scent dinged a bell in my head ringing opium. Terrific. I sat up, ignoring the tenseness in my shoulders and how hard it was to swallow or even breath.

More hushed voices came from downstairs but I was more concerned with feeling my throat. It's bulges and heat signaled that I was sure to have quite a bit of bruising. If anything, I was lucky enough to be able to remember anything...wait.

How did I get here? Last I remembered, I was in an alley with life slipping through my fingers. I jumped out of bed and cursed my impatience when the room began spinning around me so fast, I fell back again. My arse bumped against the floor and my back laid against the metal frame of the single bed behind me.

I sat there for a moment, massaging my temples until I almost felt my soul jump out of my skin as the door opened. I spun a little too quickly, eyeing the new comer with a touch of craziness until I recognized the frazzled and curly brown hair of Polly.

"Anne?" She peered over the bed at me, with soft eyes and raised hands. My heart beat had quickened until it dawned on me that I was in the Shelby's house. Several pairs of feet sounded off as they ran up the stairs and suddenly two other faces peered into the room as I sat there, flabbergasted.

"What the hell is happening here?" My voice was raspy and low as I stood, pulling myself back up with the bed. I didn't recognize it, wrapping the other hand around my throat. Was that me  _talking_? I sounded horrible.

"Well, Tommy brought you back sometime yesterday afternoon-" My eyes darted to the boy's under Polly's elbow and the older girl with curious eyes as her words faded into the static in my head.

The girl resembled most of the Shelby's with her high cheek bones and plump lips but she'd still maintained her innocence somehow. Right in the moment, I felt hatred bubbling up for her and her wandering eyes that drifted across my face, settling on my throat.

"GET OUT!" I was screeching before I'd realised that I had essentially snapped like a mad woman. My voice cracked and lapped at the building tears in my eyes when I stood, waving my arms about in some motion of away and shite.

"Alright! Move Finn, this isn't for a young man to see! Quickly now." I jumped to shove the door shut again. There was no moving without pain, especially not when I tried forcing them all out but I was too weak. Polly was the only reason I was alone again and the silence forced my legs towards the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, a swollen bump, and dried blood above my right brow mocked me. I needed to go home now. This was overwhelming.

I moved to the door, listening for a moment before softly cracking it open to peer down the hallway. I knew that the stairs had to be close enough, but I needed my bag before I could leave this place so I shut the door again.

Searching through this room, I noted the number of suits and the fact that I could swear these were Thomas's suit designs. I was so sure that I wasn't even surprised to find a label on the inside, marking each piece as a custom creation for a Thomas Shelby. Of course he got all of his suits handmade.

"Looking to get your own made?" A deeper voice rattled as I dropped the folded shirt back into the dresser's drawer hastily. His voice sounded strained, as if he'd been shouting for the last few hours. I felt embarrassed, like I'd been caught red-handed in a bank's vault.

"Should have figured you'd get them tailored, but I'm sure that doesn't make much of a dent in your profits." I snorted lowly, my voice wasn't up to par and it made me sound a bit like a small boy spouting off to his elders.

"Oh, I don't pay for suits. My suits are on the house or the house burns." He spoke with such an apathetic approach, irritating me.

"Do you just enjoy trying to intimidate me?" I turned my back to him in order to continue my search for my bag.

"I enjoy a challenge." I caught myself in the mirror as I did so, a purple bloom of a bruise settled on my shoulder...my exposed shoulder. Looking down at myself, it took me a moment to notice that I was in a simple night gown and nothing more. It was too large, slipping off of one shoulder. Good god, I was indecent right now.

"So thats what I am? A challenge? " I spun back around, angry again at his carelessness.

"Anne..." He was cold and callous in his posture as he shut the door but I saw something flash beneath the surface of his hardened expression. My brain hurried to investigate the sudden shift but it was too late, the emotion disappeared before I could identify it and I felt a bit of despair. It was like I was a child again, reaching desperately for an escaped balloon; the string dangling so tantalizingly close but the wind pushed it away and it's lost forever to me.

"Thomas..." I droned, anger just continued to bubble up. I felt as though I needed to continuously defend myself or else I'd be snuffed out like a candle dunked into a barrel of ice water.

"It'd be terrific if you could just leave now. Its not like you have enough time to spend it here with me, innit?" I was snappy and short with his lack of response. He wasn't even giving me a reaction anymore.

If apathy were a person it would be Thomas Shelby, but his skin would be grey from a lack of sun and his limbs would be fragile from consuming only cigarettes and gin. His food would be the lives of people surrounding him, and his medicine would be a noble purpose, one that meant he could take everything from everyone. Not just one person would do- no. He'd never stop until it was everyone under his thumb.

"This is my bedroom, you know. I can be 'ere if I wish." He finally spoke, breaking the animosity I'd began to build.

"It's indecent, you're not my husband." I retorted quickly, motioning to my clothes...rather the lack thereof.

"I could be." A smile creased one side of his face, confusing me slightly. I thought we were going to battle it out, not bloody joke around. He always did this, led me on until he could have a craic about it.

"Shut up, Shelby." My lips fell into a single line of continued irritation.

"Theres breakfast down stairs if you'd like it." His face fell and his back turned swiftly, he only paused as he left to tell me about the food. I said nothing to him despite the fact that he'd waited a second until he seemed to realise my silence was everlasting. With that, he left, shutting the door roughly and practically stomping until he'd gotten downstairs.

* * *

I'd decided two things in the hour after Thomas had left,

1.) fuck the bag

2.) fuck finding my clothes.

I'd just pinch a jacket of his and climb out the bloody window with all risks taken into account...I knew it was ridiculous but I just couldn't face the rest of them right now. I just wanted to run as fast and as far as I could but running back to The Garrison would do right now.

One leg was out, and I was trying to lower myself closer to the ground when another dizzy spell started up and I felt my body going backwards. I remember staring up at the window with the thought of 'Oh, fuck me.' up until my back knocked into the ground. I couldn't breathe for a good second, I heaved and I heaved as I got dizzier and more panicked.

A minute passed and it seemed God's plan was in my favour today, because I could sit up. It hurt, of course, but I was more distracted by the whispers of the woman and her husband to my left.

"Nothing to worry about here, folks." I gasped, trying to stand up again. I used the wall to balance myself out until I felt well enough to walk, and walk I did. I took all the public streets, sticking to the middle of them and away from the alleys at both sides. Finally The Garrison was within sight and I just sort of tumbled through the big doors. I'd opened the first pair smoothly enough but then I'd been to hasty with the second, falling in with a clang and a batter of noise.

"Harry." I stood and greeted the dumbfounded man who just stared at me from across the room with an open mouth. He said nothing, seemingly taken for a ride by the mere sight of me which was fine. I was a mess with no shoes on, my hair was a rat's nest, and I only had a grey night gown on with a jacket that was obviously not mine.

My feet hit each stair heavily, a thud for every step until I finally got up the stairs and stopped. My door was locked but that didn't matter much because a familiar boy was waiting for me in front of it. He was sat on the ground with a disgruntled expression until I showed up.

"Tommy said to bring you this, and this!" He looked rather proud of himself as he stood quickly and held out both my bag and my clothes which looked to have been washed. Of course, they had washed them. They were just  _that_  nice.

"Thanks." I mumbled, taking the bag and pile of clothes. Apparently that was all his task was because right after I'd taken them, he bolted past me and down the stairs. I stared at his back until he turned the corner with some confusion.

"Jesus." I was still mumbling, my voice was unhappy with it's use but I ignored it. I'd ignore it until it finally healed up and I was back to normal, instead of this weird Frankenstein's monster type of being I'd become.

Opening the door was an easy task after everything but it was less easier to just collapse onto my bed. Mainly because I ached as I moved, everything seemed to ache and the bed wasn't very forgiving. I mean, it never had been but this was only an issue for me now. So I tossed and I turned for hours until finally Harry yelled up the stairs to tell me I'd gotten the night off.


	9. Chapter 9

There were sudden hollow echoes of knuckles rapping on wood that woke me up with a fright. My mind splintered in the ways of the coppers or another person was here to beat the shit out of me for some reason. It hurt too much to just jump up so I was slow, too slow apparently. 

By the time I'd actually gotten off my ass, the someone that had been banging at the door was already on their way into my room. At first I continued to panic, but then I recognized those familiar icy eyes and slowed my motions of hiding. I was hoping I'd be able to just sit here and become a giant ball of blankets for the rest of the night but it seemed that wasn't in anyone else's head.

"Come." He stood tall and proud, like a peacock on display for it's mate but his words made him appear more of a slave master.

"Why?" I stared him down still, despite the showmanship and confidence he exuded. I was haughty in my rite and I could see a flash of emotions, one was anger, another was recognition, but I still couldn't place the third. It was so familiar.

"Anne, stop being so bloody stubborn!" The bottom of his fist hit the wall next to him, landing against it left a dull bang. My eyes widened ever so lightly, as I took a half-step back without meaning too, I really didn't  _want_  to do that. It was weak, scared. If I could run away I did, but I would never back down from someone face to face. It was cowardly.

"Then stop being so demanding! I'm not a dog to be ordered about!" My voice was coarse sounding, crackling and popping like meat being burnt to a chard over an open flame.

"You have a head injury, Anne. We've got a doctor, we're just waiting on you." His words came from behind gritted teeth and a blase look plastered onto his face.

"Why would you care if I've bashed my head?" I was suspicious, even paranoid if you will. Somehow I imagined that this was how pigs felt before being led into the slaughterhouse. 

"Well," his throat cleared loudly as he glanced around the room. "You're an employee, how am I supposed'ta expect you to keep working if you can't remember your own name?" his hands slid into his pockets but he didn't pull out a cigarette, thankfully. He sounded...guilty? Is it even possible for him to  _feel_ guilt? 

"Fine. Lets go then." I mumbled, starting to move towards the door but he held up a hand to stop me.

"Wha?" I opened my mouth to question him when he sauntered away to the chair I'd kept all my clothes on and I shut my mouth again to watch him. Oh, right. I'm wearing a night dress. I wonder whose it is.

It wasn't meant to be the 'clothes chair' but I'd continued filling it with laundry until I washed everything...at which point I just sort of dumped all of the pieces back on the chair.

"'ere." His voice was gruff as he dug through and pulled out a pair of trousers and a relatively clean brown shirt as well as a tweed vest that had once been my da's. I took them without saying anything and watched him for a moment longer. Honestly, I was expecting him to stand there and watch me but to my surprise, he turned around and stared out the window.

* * *

A metal piece had been pressed against my back as I breathed awkwardly, the eyes of the Shelby Matriarch watched the male practitioner like a hawk. I'd began to wonder why they'd bothered with a doctor when it seemed obvious that they didn't trust them.

"And you say she had a blow to her head?" The doctor, leaned back, patting my shoulders roughly enough that I almost hissed at the man.

"Aye." Thomas drawled, still not smoking to my surprise. Instead he sat at the table across from us, with his hands steepled and his back leaned into the wood of his chair. He looked the picture of relaxed but I noticed the tightness in his shoulders, a signal that he wasn't truly calm and nervously I wondered if he'd ever felt peace his whole life.

"Well, you know Sir, the shock produced by the accident may cause molecular change in the brain." I paused at that, what the hell does that mean?

"Meaning what?" Polly's voice was sharp but controlled in her volume. She'd spoken just loud enough to grab his attention considering the male continuously spoke to Thomas instead of she or I.

"Madam, when one sustains such a blow, the shock may thereby produce psychic disturbances or a predisposition, especially in neurotic individuals such as women. Its possible that her womb was forced to wander." He continued on, glancing between Polly and I with hooded suspicion and the speculating eyes of a child at a zoo.

"Insanity may not occur until after a long interval, during which no special symptoms may even occur until it is too late. Have you had any licentious thoughts after your accident?" Oh he did  _not_  just call me insane.

"Unfortunately, I've only 'ad 'eadaches." My lips formed a straight line as I glowered at him, a touch embarrassed but mainly angry with this British quack of a doctor.

"She's...insane. Thats what you're tellin' me?" Thomas sounded disillusioned, but the static in my head droned on. It scared me despite the bubbling rage. Would I just be my mother? She'd devolved a bout of female hysteria in her early years after she'd started working for my Da but he'd never treated her well until I came along.

"Yes, but it is possible she may already be in the early stages..." I jerked to watch the doctor stand and dig through his bag for a second. Glass clinked against metal in there, my heart beat jumped. "I have this to help, just take a drop of this each morning and each night."

"Insanity's early stages can include fainting, confusion, memory loss, and headaches you know. Better to be safe." I glanced at the bottle that had been thrust into my hands, a reddish-brownish liquid slowly jiggled in it. I opened the cork and recoiled almost immediately, Laudanum. I recognized it's smell from the multitude of drugs that my mother had been given when she fell ill.

"See? The hysteria is near, she's even disgusted by her own medicine!" This was damning sign apparently. Usually I didn't question myself this much but ever since I'd come so close to death, I questioned everything. I wasn't sure if I was grateful for more time on God's earth or angry for it. 

"That is just about enough! Where the hell did you come from? Victorian bloody England?!" Polly snatched the bottle away quickly, corking it once more. Why was she so insulted? She wasn't being accused. She was powerful. No one messed with her, they wouldn't dare. 

"Poll...take 'er into the parlor." Thomas stood, reaching into his pocket to pull out a silver case. I frowned, still a bit lost as to what was going on. Maybe I was insane. I'd had a hard time understanding what was going on, I'd been dizzy, I'd had headaches.

Am I insane? I couldn't remember this morning after Harry had woken me up just to tell me that I'd gotten the night off. Is that insanity? Not knowing which moment is which or when they occurred? Was it headaches?

I didn't realise I'd been sat down into a chair lined with velvet until I realised Polly was speaking.

"Hm?" I eyed her warily, worried that hearing loss was also a symptom.

"That doctor is a blithering idiot. Never surprises me with men, they just think with their bloody cocks." She was sharp, and prickly like a steel blade so I stared for a moment longer. It felt like the wall's were caving in on me right now, I was scared but my anger had been forgotten. In it's place was a need to rehearse everything that had been said over and over again. I could remember that way, right?

"Oh dear, don't cry. That man was insane. Why when Arthur was a boy he had a bit of a hit on his 'ead, and he just took a week before he was runnin' again." A hand rubbed my back in circles but it didn't help, it made me angry. When did I start crying? I was just like my mother, my Da always said she'd just been waiting to snap.

"She just keeps mumblin' insane over and over again, Thomas. I think he scared her into thinkin' it. Bastard." Polly's hand fell away but when I looked up again, the same blue eyes were watching me with despair. That was what was always behind the blue. Despair.

"Want to 'ear a story?" Confusing me even more, Thomas sat down on the carpet in front of me. My eyes bore into his, waiting for the trick to come up. The moment he jumped up and shot me for wasting so much of his time. He didn't need me, didn't need anyone really, and how I envied him for that. His future was in front of him with nothing to stop him but himself whereas mine was darker. Marred by the same swelling, cuts, and bruises that covered my upper-body right now. 

"Not really." I looked down on him, still and quiet. My face felt wet but I ignored it, focused on watching the enigma of a man in front of me. He looked taken a back for a second before a small smile spread across his face.

"At least you're honest ey?" He gave a snort and it was so uncommon that my lips turned upwards of their own accord. Was I that honest though? Not particularly but we both knew he was less honest than me so I won out on that end. 

* * *

A total of two days had passed and I'd begun working back behind the counter again, feeding the afternoon crew drinks as quickly as I could unless the Shelby's were in their little office. They'd been discussing something...out of the normal gangster related crimes but, their voices were too low for me to hear.

"Three beers, luv." I stopped my ministrations of attempting to wipe a glass clean in order to focus on the boyish face of John Shelby.

"You're going to choke on that one day." I eyed the toothpick for a moment when I noticed that the three men in front of me had gone eerily silent. I could see them leaning back away from me out of the corner of my eye and pondered if I smelled today or something. They'd seemed fine just a few minutes ago.

"Aye," he shrugged, "I'm living on borrowed time anyways."

For once, I had nothing else to say to a Shelby so I focused on his order. I didn't have another quip or a witty remark to go over his head, I was just...there was nothing. He had the face of a boy but the wisdom of a gent much older than him.

"Here you are." I stood three glasses next to each other on the little window ledge between us. I didn't bother glancing into the room, choosing to turn and go back to minding the bar with Harry off as John scooped up their drinks with ease.

Eyeing the seat that George once sat in, I realised I hadn't thought about him since the...incident. I didn't like thinking back to then. My heart would start racing and I'd get dizzy enough to nearly collapse which everyone around me swore was normal but, secretly I wondered if that doctor had been right.

Doors banged open loudly, bouncing against the wall with two male voices laughing to each other. I gripped the bar tighter than I'd like to admit until I realised that it was just the eldest and youngest Shelby havin' a craic with each other.

"You alright?" I glanced away from the brothers to find Thomas standing there, eyeing my hands.

"Terrific." I released the bar quickly and wiped the sweat onto my legs. Despite the fact that I just said I was terrific, I nearly jumped out of my skin as a loud metallic BRRRRING sounded off in the little office in the back...I actually forgot there was a phone back there. I don't think I've ever heard it ring actually.

Thomas left and grabbed it as his brothers exited the building, slamming the doors once more. I needed to get out from the bar and the fact that we were nearly out of clean glasses gave me the perfect excuse. I practically dashed to the room, only pausing ever so lightly at the sound of my own name from inside the office.

"No, mate. Anne Cormac, not Anne Bonney." Oh no.

I hurried past like I hadn't heard those damning words, Thomas was  _still_ trying to rip me apart at the seams. Who did he know in London? Or Belfast? No one, right? Who was on the payroll out of town?

I couldn't think of anyone but I was just as nervous now if not more.


	10. Chapter 10

I focused on the numbers and words in front me, etched into paper with black ink and did my best to remember what they meant to me. I knew they were numbers and I knew how to add them or divide them but I found little reasons as to why I should. What did it matter? I'd have a job? A place to sleep and eat? I'd grow old eventually, and then what? I'd die all the same if the Shelby's knew I'd lied about my name.

Everything just felt so...pointless now that I'd never be able to right the wrong done to me. Nothing mattered much. Food didn't matter, my cup of tea in the morning didn't matter, clothes being cleaned didn't mean anything either. They were all immaterial to me.

The days following up my accident began to grow into two weeks and every morning I'd ask a silent God why he had bothered at all. Why had he bothered sending Thomas Shelby into that alley? Why had that devil of a man find me and why was that the only thing that meant something to me now?

I sat in church begging for an answer yesterday at two in the morning, and there was nothing in return. I'd  _actually_  gone to church over the last week, hoping for some sort of release from this haze I'd found myself in. If the bloody clouds had parted and God shouted at me to stop asking stupid questions, I think I might have actually cried from joy. Joy that I hadn't been forgotten or abandoned by everyone but the Shelbys.

My ma had been religious in her time, despite the fact that she'd had a baby out of wedlock...sometimes I questioned if that was even her choice. I went to church with her, sat silently in the pews and remembered every word that was preached by the dried up old man of a Father. I think his name was Patrick, Patrick something or other.

At least I could remember that, right? Some of my memory had returned to me, I wasn't as lost in conversations as I had been two weeks ago but I failed to see why it'd matter anymore.

I had no one to help me piece it all together, that was the price of being such a prickly person. No one could handle me even at my best, and I don't think anyone wanted too anymore. I'd pushed even George away under the guise that a friend wouldn't matter once my identity had been found out.

He'd come around a week ago, I think, and I'd treated him just a coldly as any other of the men that frequented this bar. The realisation that I felt him beneath me was a great driving factor to push me towards men of the cloth.

_"Anne?" I blinked at the stocky man I'd recalled disappearing a little while ago. George. His face wasn't as pale but the purple and blue bruises forced a bright bit of contrast to the white in my eyes._

_"What can I get you?" I'd repeated this phrase so many times that it was a habit._

_"What happened to you?" He was shocked. Horrified? I wouldn't blame him. I was disgusting to look at right now, some swelling had gone down but the cuts were healing over the top bits of nasty yellow across my face and neck._

_"You're just as bruised as I am." I remarked sharply, not caring at the mild shock across his face. A cut on his lip cracked with dried blood pulled down into a lour but I forced my eyes back up to his._

_"And? I'm not a bloody rabble-rouser." I stood with hunched shoulders, not bothering to even look him in the eye anymore. It was pointless. He'd speak without me eyeing him either way. He was silent for a moment, before I began to focus back on cleaning a mug methodically. The bar was near empty, two men sat in the back corner drinking and chatting to themselves with nary a glance my way unless they wanted more drink._

_"Why is it a guy is a trouble-maker? Every time I get battered fightin' off the gangs there isn't a person in town that wants to make eye-contact anymore!" He was angry? Why would he be angry with me? I wasn't the one that left him standing there, now was I?_

_"I'm a freaking fighter, and these bruises are the only prizes I'll ever get." The words of being some kind of a hero made me eye him again, inspecting the various colours. It hadn't been one fight considering a few had all but disappeared from his skin, it had to have been multiple._

_"What can I get you, George?" I sighed, blinking at him with mild disinterest as I sat the mug down._

_"Nothing. I'll leave you alone." His eyes showed back something that had become foreign to me, anger. Sometimes I missed that spark, it'd pushed me for so long. Angry that my mother had died, angry that my father didn't care, angry that no one gave a shite about anyone else these days. But now...I was one of them. I didn't care what even happened to me._

I was becoming hollow...no. I am hollow. A ghost hiding amongst the devils with flat caps and sharp blades, a paper-doll that had been ripped in half and tried to stick herself back together. I had no one to help me put myself back together and I don't think I wanted anyone, there was something comforting about accepting life as it was.

"Anne? You'll be out front tonight. Theres a game goin' on so don't worry about being too quick." Harry's voice spoke into the open door of my little office and I nodded at him. It was too much work to turn around and say something so I forced myself to stare at the numbers, wondering if they'd come together for me to make out a message.

* * *

Three knocks pulled my attention away from the paper I'd been reading in lieu of finishing the books off. I sighed quietly and folded it back up into a square before I forced myself to move my legs in order to greet whomever was at the door. My legs cracked, making me wonder how long I'd been sitting here to stare at pieces of paper.

"Yeah?" I called out to the door, ignoring the odd fact that they'd actually knocked. The knob turned and the wood opened to reveal Thomas Shelby, great. He'd dropped in every day now but he didn't ask me much about the pub or even about myself anymore. He didn't say anything as he came in and shut the door behind himself to lean on the edge of my desk. He just watched me, his eyes jumped across my figure until finally he seemed to settle on having a cigarette.

"You eat today?" His tone was empty as usual as he pulled out his silver case but his eyes finally left my face to focus on not singeing his eyebrows. Somewhere in the back of my head, I knew he was doing a routine check up on me. I'd all but crashed and burned after last week, like the terror had been phase one and phase two was just a veil of grey across my skin.

"Probably." I shrugged, turning back to the paper I'd folded. It seemed he didn't need that much of my attention if this was a personal call.

"Did you or did you not?" He pressed again, this time a click of his lighter sounded off too.

"I don't think I have." I replied slowly, words tumbled out of my mouth with little interest as I unfolded the paper once more and raised it to my face. It wasn't about racing, rather it was focused on recent events. Somehow it made me feel better to know that the world around me was going to shite too.

"Then why am I payin' you four pounds a week?" He breathed out with a cloud of smoke rising, his voice didn't sound annoyed or even curious. It was more of an empty question than anything.

"Dunno. Might as well make it 55 pence again." I shrugged again, this time behind a paper. I don't know why I even bothered to shrug, it wasn't as though he could some how look through a solid newspaper.

"Any nightmares?" His questions droned on, but I couldn't find it in myself to care about the incessant questioning about my daily habits.

"No." I intoned, couldn't have any nightmares if you didn't sleep long enough. Even when I did sleep for more than an hour or two, it was a murky blackness that I was just under the surface of. I think I actually enjoyed this more than the constant anxiousness of waiting for the other shoe to drop on my head. I wasn't jerky, or panicked. I was slow and methodical with everything I did, I didn't even have to really look at things anymore. I could look through them.

"You didn't even sleep, did you?" His words came a sigh, like he was disappointed in me. I was more curious as to how he knew I hadn't.

"No." My eyes moved down the pages with mild disinterest. Same stories, different day. Someone did something grand enough that they wrote about it.

"You're slowly killin' yourself, you know that." Again, his words were phrased a like a question but it came as a statement that we both knew to be true.

I said nothing. Why would he give a shit whether or not I lived or died? It was my own choice.

"When I came back from France...I didn't sleep or eat much." I didn't understand why he'd bother continuing to talk but I humoured him non the less with a quiet 'mhm'.

"I was...empty more or less. Didn't give a shit about anythin'." That made me pay more attention though he'd never have known that, I kept the paper raised but I didn't flip the page. I became less surprised about this...more vulnerable side of Thomas after I'd realised the trouble he went through to get me seen too. I just didn't understand why he seemed to struggle for some sort of connection with me outside of a desperate need to understand people enough to break them down. I was already broken.

"And what changed?" I almost snorted at him, didn't seem like anything  _had_  changed. I knew he had to sleep like shit from the blue circles that seemed to linger around his eyes. He drank nearly all day and he easily smoked every few minutes after he woke. Maybe I could actually learn a thing or two from him?

"I was pulled through. Shook hands with my devils and moved past them." Well that was useless, I was back to stage one once more. I didn't have it in me to pull myself through at this point, I felt weak in all senses of the word and there was no one around to offer me a hand. It was tiring to stand and my lips cracked with each word.

"Right. Get up." He pulled the paper from my hands roughly, the tearing sound of paper being pulled into two pieces had my attention more than the man in front of me. I felt a small sigh escape my lips but I stood anyways.

I grabbed a bit of cloth hanging on the coat rack out of habit when we went out the door but I didn't bother to ask where we were going. He said nothing as he walked and smoked some, we took the alleys again but I had a feeling there wasn't a soul in these parts that would bother to try anything with Thomas leading the way. It felt like I needed him around sometimes, like I wasn't safe to be out without a Shelby leading the way. Pathetic really.

We came to a pub, The Marquis of Lorne, and Thomas practically kicked the bloody doors open. The room was just as dimly lit and smokey as the Garrison had been when I'd first come to Small Heath, it was almost nostalgic.

"Dawyer Gerald!" Thomas called the name loudly, his hands half in his vest's pockets as he searched the room with expectant and bloodthirsty eyes. I was about to ask why we'd come here exactly when a man whose face was marred with deep cuts that had begun to heal stood shakily. No one uttered a single word, you could hear a mouse shit in the walls at this point but I could hear my heart beat kick up. It was like Thomas had wanted to do this for ages with how easy he went about this.

"Come 'ere." The man whose face I'd begun to recognize came closer with a terrified look as his eyes darted between mine and Thomas's. Why would he bring me here? Why would he force me to stand here and stare this mother fucker in the face once again? It'd dawned on me that he'd been the same man from my incident and the same man I'd cracked over the head months ago.

"Sir, he didn't mean to go that fa-" A man at his table had spoken up as Dawyer came closer to us.

"Shut up."

"But-"

"I said shut up, or you'll go with 'im." I was almost shocked at the malice in his voice as he cut off the bloke. I don't think I've ever heard him speak like that. I mean I knew he was a feared guy around here but, not  _this_ much. I swallowed heavily, trying to push back the bile that was slowly forcing it's way up my throat out of nervousness with the doctor's words of insanity ringing through my head.

Thomas waited until Dawyer stood in front of us to move and I began to wonder what this was exactly. I almost jumped as I watched Thomas hit the back of the man's knees, knocking him down easily.

Suddenly I was looking down at a look of terror and guilt all mixed into two brown eyes that reflect my own face. The hatred and fear I'd held for this guy melted away in the guilt of what was happening in front of me. Either he was about to get a few more cuts or he was going to be cruelly humiliated.

I was out of sorts, emotions colliding with each other in a violent manner inside my head and chest when Thomas pulled out his weapon from somewhere within his jacket and stuck it in my hands. This wasn't a warning just for Dawyer attempting to snatch me, this was a message being sent across Small Heath by me and me alone.

I should have been enjoying this, I should be grinning right now. I could end his life right on this bloody spot but...I wasn't so sure if I wanted too. Sometimes late at night I'd dream about how this would feel, how even the thought of this arsehole getting what was coming to him would feel so good. Where had those thoughts gone?

"Please. Please, don't." He begged me at first as I turned the gun around in my hands, then turned to Thomas to beg him as well with his hands raised.

"I didn't mean to do it like that! I just had too much to drink!" His cries were the only noises in the pub right now and everyone's eyes were watching the spectacle unfold. How  _did_  he mean to do it then?

I felt the weight of the metal piece in my hands noticing that Thomas's weapon shared the same look as mine, the weight of the decision I was about to make reinforced the seriousness however. I stared at this man's face for a second longer, noticing the tension in his brows and the sudden snarl that his lips formed when no one spoke to his defense. I realised something in that moment.

In order to become the top predator, you couldn't remain what you were. You needed to be on the same moral standing as them, to have the same level of fear surrounding you, you had to be it's equal. I'd either remain prey to men like this...or. Or I'd show them all that I was the same.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hi! I'm alive and sorry that I hadn't updated in so long! Also, I am not an expert on Wembly firearms and their effects at close range so forgive me if it's inaccurate. I tried my best and after a bit of research that probably has me on some NSA list for possible murders via antique revolvers, I came out with whats below!  
> Enjoy and be on the look out for possibly tying in some of the show's season one!

I turned it over in my hands, the doctor's diagnosis ringing through my head. Insanity. Is this was insanity was? Because I'm about 90% sure that everyone in this bar, myself included, were insane. They could easily rush us, take the gun and shoot us if they'd actually tried. After all, I wasn't very strong thanks to a lack of food and sleep over the last week and Thomas could only do so much.

Did this even have bullets? Was I being tested right now? I glanced at Thomas's stoney face before I flipped the gun over in my hands to pull back the area where the bullets were supposed to be stored. I struggled a tad with barrel, attempting to not shoot myself in the foot as I fiddled with the latch, but it finally popped open to reveal the brass of six bullets. Good god, Thomas Shelby had just handed me a loaded gun. This wasn't a test. Or if it was, he trusted me a little  _too_  much not to shoot him.

I could swing this around and shoot him in the head if I wished. I'd been a bit of a mad woman for the last two weeks and he'd just handed me a loaded weapon, what was he playing at here?

I swallowed heavily as I popped the barrel and cylinder back into shape with a small click and jiggled the chamber slightly for another click to know everything was officially ready to be fired. I pulled back the pointed metal piece in the back just like how my da said too, a hammer maybe? It was for my personal safety when he was at war or something, I didn't pay it much attention under the assumption he'd be coming back.

I blinked as I held the gun up to his head with little regard for the sweat mixing into crusty wounds trying to heal on his forehead or the sharp intakes of breath in the room. My da wasn't coming back and I was on my own, if I didn't do this...well. I'd already seen the bruising effects of trying to keep a low profile and go it alone. I needed to make it known that I couldn't just be taken advantage of.

My finger appeared to be moving on it's own, sliding under the metal guard and grasping the trigger with a light touch as my other hand wrapped around the base with a tight grip. I could still walk away. I hadn't killed anyone yet, well anyone  _here_. But if I did, I'd be admitting defeat, right? I'd be saying it was fine for them attack me and try to have their way when I gave up fighting.

He made me give up, because he had too much to drink.

He couldn't stop himself? He didn't mean to go that far? How far was he  _going_  to go exactly?

Just some light petting? A little bruising? A small bump to the head?

I felt the revolver jerk back in my hands as it almost hit me in the face and I saw the short flash of light erupt from the end of my weapon, but I didn't hear anything. I felt a pop in my ears like a storm was approaching and I saw his body jerk then flop over onto the ground but I couldn't hear it fall. It was silent for a few seconds and no one moved as something red dripped on the floor as I watched him fall through a small cloud of smoke. Was Thomas actually smoking right now?

I glanced at him to see a hint of pride behind the blue of his eyes but he wasn't smoking, where'd the cloud come from then? I looked back down at the floor as a ringing began to go off in my ears, it was like I'd stuck my head inside of a telephone as someone called. I tried putting my other hand against my ear to stop the sound as it got louder and louder but it wouldn't lay flat for some reason.

The smoke had faded away as the ringing got louder somehow and I realised I was actually a little wet? A hand came up and I felt fingers touching my cheek, it was wet and sticky. How odd. Why was my cheek wet?

I glanced at the tips to realise they were actually my fingers when they wiggled, and they were coloured red as a weight was taken from my other hand as it brushed my hair. Another pale hand had wrapped around the top of mine as I moved my finger from the trigger out of some sort of instinct. Red caught my attention again as it reached my boots, pooling near me and the man's fallen body. He wasn't moving, despite the round chunk missing from the front.

"Is he dead?" I could barely hear myself as I posed the question aloud and looked around for some sort of confirmation. No one nodded, and no one moved outside of Thomas who was motioning to the door with his mouth moving to form words I couldn't quite understand right now. They were all just staring at me with varying arrays of disgust, horror, shock, and sadness. 

I blinked again, then twice as my body seemed to just follow along behind the black coat I'd come to associate with Thomas Shelby. He stopped once we were outside and I could smell coal burning, shattered bottles of gin, and piss once again as something came around my shoulders. I glanced at it to find my coat had been laid over me and I couldn't recall when I'd actually taken it off? 

I was too focused on processing what just happened to bother considering a coat. He was gone? He was really gone forever? I expected to feel guilt or remorse or something for the man I'd seen a second ago but I couldn't find any in my soul. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure as to what just happened in front of me. Did I do that?

"Anne?" I turned my head to eye where I'd heard my name through the ringing that seemed to lower a tad and found Shelby watching me. He was always watching, somehow I'd expected him to be busy with something more interesting or urgent but he just...watched. I couldn't find a shred of annoyance despite the fact that he was attempting to stare a hole through my forehead right now. 

"Yeah?" I raised a brow, feeling that same wet and sticky feeling on my forehead as it creased with my brow. Blood. My brain supplied the word for the substance I was pretty sure I had on my face and hands now. I needed a new shirt now, this would never come out no matter how much I'd scrub it. It'd be forever stained so I decided to just wipe off whatever was on my face with the edge of my shirt. I was sort of glad that I hadn't worn the vest, whatever blood had landed on my jacket blended in well with the black.

"Hungry?" He nodded his head towards an alley that led to the public street as he reached into his coat, placing something in it. A bit of metal caught my eye before the black of his coat obscured it from my sight. Gun. My brain supplied another word through the subsiding ringing in my ears. I rubbed my ears for a second, wondering if that would help but it seemed like the ringing was going away on it's own. 

"Yeah." I nodded, not sure as to why I was nodding. I could probably do with a bite to eat, did I have breakfast this morning? I couldn't recall as I brought my jacket back around me and slid my arms through the sleeves to button it up slowly.

His coat moved again as a pale hand reached into another pocket, producing a silver tin. He turned and began walking as he fiddled with it, opening the silver and pulling out a cigarette. He was going to have a smoke while we walked then, I suppose I should actually begin walking, eh? I wonder why he didn't have one when we were inside the pub, it wasn't as though the room was lacking other blokes with cigarettes in their hands.

"What're you in the mood for then?" He breathed as I heard a short burst come from the matches I hadn't noticed he'd produced. I took a moment to consider that and a cloud of smoke wafted up from above him as the ringing stopped. I stared at him for a second when I realised that he had waited for me, holding out an elbow that told me to move and take it.

"Maybe a pie?" I mumbled, mostly to myself as my legs finally started working. I didn't put much thought into it as I wrapped my arm around his elbow, coming around to clasp my other hand gently.

"Sweet or savoury?" His voice was deeper than I remembered but I just sort of chuckled instead of voicing that. He didn't say anything as I laughed lightly, but I could feel his stare on the side of my face. Right, this wasn't normal behaviour was it?

"Apple. I'm in the mood for apple pie." I declared after I'd finished dealing with my bout of the chuckles. I think the last time I'd had apple pie was when my ma made it for my 10th birthday.

"Apple pie it is then." He nodded, taking another drag before he held it and flicked off some of the ash it'd produced. I glanced at him for a second, taking in the flat cap that I knew was lined with razor blades and smiled at him through the smoke he blew out slowly. Maybe he did have a heart after all.

"I think thats the first time you've actually smiled at me, I can't tell if I should be impressed or nervous." He sort of snorted and I just shrugged it off as we meandered through the alley out onto a nearly empty street. I hadn't had a reason to smile in a while and apple pie was good enough.

"I suppose you need to give me a reason to smile more often to figure it out then." I sighed, taking in the shops that were open with customers buzzing about. Children ran along by themselves, giggling or yelling as their parents did the shopping and they played. Low conversations stopped as we walked past but I couldn't find it in me to pay them any mind.

"Is that a challenge?" I turned my head back 'round to watch as he raised a brow before he took another drag in. He wasn't smiling or smirking but his eyes held a hint of mirth at my disposition.

"Would you like it to be?" I raised a brow to mirror his otherwise blank expression and he finally broke into a smirk.

"What do I get if I win?" His lips twitched in the smirk as I shrugged for an answer.

"How about I  _don't_  tell Polly that you almost swore in church?" I watched as his face moved from apathetic amusement to shock for a short second before apathy relaxed his eyes again.

"Is that blackmail I'm hearin'?" His face read out nothing but the fact that I was still being led through the street by his elbow told me he was havin' a craic with me. I'd noticed the man who kept his head down low while I stared at the statue of Jesus on the cross, I just didn't care enough to acknowledge him. Honestly, I didn't even notice that much of him until he'd dropped the bible and almost hissed out a shite when the clatter echoed. It was the hiss that drew my attention and a small bit of sharp cheekbones that told me who it was.

"Blackmail? Me? Thats slander, Mr Shelby." I placed a hand over where I figured my heart was under the coat in my mockery of surprised innocence. He took another drag but let out a low chuckle nonetheless as I let my hand fall back to my side. I don't know what I really expected from him after I'd possibly shot a man in cold blood with the gun he'd handed me. 

"How about..." He blew out the smoke with a thoughtful look in his eyes as he scratched his chin, careful not to burn his nose or cheeks. I raised a brow, waiting for him to get over the dramatics and finish the sentence.

"You just owe me a favour?" He turned his head slightly, eyeing the side of my face before he took another drag. I pursed my lips, not entirely sure if owing a favour to Thomas Shelby was in my best interests. I was silent as I watched him flick the spent cigarette remains onto the pavement we walked alongside of.

"I get to decide if I do you the favour or not." I mumbled it half to myself and half to Thomas who seemed to hear me all the same as he nodded.

"Alright. Now, in you go." He stopped next to a bakery I hadn't actually noticed before and motioned to the door with a nod of his head. A wooden door that was splintering at the bottom blocked me from seeing into this place and made me ever so slightly nervous. You'd think that I'd notice something like a full blown bakery, right? Bread in the oven smelled amazing but all I could smell right now was coal and cigarettes.

"Mary's pie is the best in Small heath, I promise." He watched me for a moment, apparently noticing my hesitance as he took a small step and waited for my brain to make up its mind. I supposed Mary was the baker? No. Maybe the baker's wife? I've taken too long to respond, this is getting awkward. Speak, Anne. SPEAK!

"I've no doubt." I shook my head with a slack expression on my face, as though I'd never seen a bloody bakery before. I've found that my brain and my legs don't always agree on where we should go or how to get there, currently my brain was screaming the word NO at me as my legs slowly followed the direction that Thomas was pulling me.


	12. Chapter 12

I woke up on a cold Tuesday morning after a dreamless night and stared out the window at the same wall of the same building, it'd never changed. It's bricks turned black from grime and ash but sturdy enough to keep standing up right. I wonder if it'd crumble if it got shot? Guns are a funny thing. All it takes is a bit of metal and some powder for someone to keel over on you, well that and some determination.

Every time I thought about it, I considered how...different it was from shooting one of Alfie's lackeys in the back. He hadn't even fought back, no one stopped me and I wasn't upset. I wasn't happy but I wasn't guilty either, he'd deserved it. I knew that I should feel awful, I took someone's life but he'd tried to take mine first. Eye for an eye? No, I'd just choke him out for a bit that way and a gun wouldn't have entered the equation at all then.

"Anne?" I flinched at the sound of Harry's voice yellin' up the stairs for me but relaxed as it dawned on me that he wasn't even near the stairs. I'd work on this new skittish nature, it was irritating to almost jump out of your skin and cowardly.

"Yeah?" I turned and headed for the door, opening it and popping my head out to yell back at him. I didn't do cowardly. Was I going to just wait around for someone to come save me? All I'd do then is drag everyone down, including myself. I was better than that, I wasn't a bloody damsel waitin' around for some man to carry her around.

"Um. Ready for the books?" He yelled back sounding a little unsure as my head popped back in the room to check the clock on my dresser. Right, I actually have a job and I'd slept in till noon.

"Yeah! Sorry!" I shouted my apologies to receive no response as I started going through the pile of laundry on the chair for some pants and a shirt. I ripped off the night gown I'd worn to bed and almost lost my balance as I tried shoving my feet through folded trousers before pulling on a button up.

"Sorry, Harry. Bit of a late start." I was rambling apologies as I'd made it down to the last step. I'd finally gotten the top button to cooperate and attempted to pull my hair up without a brush when I looked up to see I had a bit of an audience. Harry stood there looking a bit frazzled with a blonde woman standing next to him and for a second I had nothing to say as I stared at her for a moment.

I paused my attempts at controlling the red curls and had to stop my mouth from falling open at her. She looked right out of place in The Garrison with curled blonde hair, it was smooth and shiny. Her clothes were modest but she held herself up with confidence and a small smile that revealed a single dimple as she took me in. My brain paused at the smile, noticing that she looked to be on the verge of snorting and felt a rush of embarrassment fight indigence in my throat.

"Customer?" I raised a brow, continuing to twist my hair round to tuck it under itself in a bun as I addressed Harry with a neutral enough tone that I was proud. One plus of having thick and curly hair, if you twisted it up tight enough it'd stay in place.

"Not quite. I was hoping there'd be a position here but it looks as though it's been filled already." She replied instead, turning to fully look at me as she spoke. She had a soft lilt to her words, reminding me of my old neighbour's accent as my head tilted slightly and my heart sped up. She was irish? But I didn't recognize her and for a second I felt relief flow through me. She wasn't connected to me, God bless.

"I'm sorry?" I shrugged as the room went silent again. I wasn't sure as to what else I was supposed to say at this point, we weren't open and there wasn't a job so why was she still here?

"Right well...I suppose I'll just return as a patron then?" She seemed to pick up on the obvious continuing silence from Harry and I and bobbed her head.

"Yeah. See you then." I nodded halfheartedly at her and watched as she nodded back. I raised a brow when she finally turned and started for the door, stopping the awkward nodding loop we almost got in. Bloody hell, I thought we'd have to stand here nodding until the cows came up so she'd finally leave.

Nothing was said as her heeled boots clacked on the floor and she went out the doors. I waited a second until I heard the second door shut and then waited another minute to make sure she wasn't just hangin' 'round like a freak. She just rubbed me the wrong way despite the overwhelming...glitter about her person.

She was beautiful and classy but it was weird that she'd come over here for a job with the education she obviously had. Even the Irish accent sounded smooth and elegant out of her, which was ever so annoying considering I sounded like an uneducated farmer when I let the accent fly.

"What was that?" I turned the raised brow onto Harry as he shrugged and raised his hands up with his palms facing me. He looked vaguely out of sorts as he ran a hand through his limp hair. Lad could do with a bath but hey, it was his life.

"I tried gettin' her to leave, but then she started to sing and I didn't know what to do so I just yelled for you." He huffed as I cocked a hip out of the need to try and pop it a little. It was achy which wasn't unheard of considering I slept on what I was pretty sure was a mattress stuffed with pebbles.

"She tried singin'?" I almost snorted that bit out as I rotated my hip around and groaning when it popped, the aching subsiding. After a second passed I realised that this was probably not the best thing for a lady to be doin' and cleared my throat as I stood up fully again.

"Uh...Yeah." He eyed my hip for a moment, with a hint of pink colouring the tops of his slightly fuzzy ears as I eyed the scar above his brows. We stood in silence for a second before he cleared his throat as well. A wave of some off-putting feeling tightened my chest and my heart sped up. I paused on that for a second coming to the conclusion that I was kind of uncomfortable standing here now.

"Well...sorry I was runnin' late. I'll go do some...books now." I bobbed my head up and down before I almost ran off to the office and shut the door behind me fast enough that I didn't hear Harry's response.

I pulled open a random book and attempted to force myself to look over pieces of paper that contained whatever numbers I needed. It wasn't Harry in particular that made me nervous, he was harmless honestly. I just didn't feel enthralled with the idea that he could possibly find me attractive. Usually I'd be flattered but...I'd seen him wear the same clothes for almost three days and I knew what he smelled like after a long night. Hard to be interested in that after.


	13. Chapter 13

I dropped two pints on the table of two men who let off a chorus of thanks before going back to idly discussing which horse to bet on. One smacked his mate's shoulder after he'd whispered something about witchcraft and a horse as another gent stood close by. Sounded like the races were tomorrow.

He was just sort of standing there, a trimmed mustache and combed hair had him lookin' rather spiffy for the establishment he was lingering in. I passed by him on my way to the bar and realised that he'd been waiting for the punters to pick a specific horse from the wad of betting papers sticking out of his jacket's pockets. Hope those were going to be heading into the Shelby's hands...otherwise the gent might not have his after they'd found out.

He struck me as an interesting guy, not that he'd be great to have a chat with but that he was scooping out the scene like he was. I couldn't recall his face specifically being in the pub before but to be fair I hadn't been looking lately. I wasn't sure why I'd started noticing all these different oddities about the people surrounding me today, but they appeared harmless enough for me to relax a little. Maybe the dead man had left his mark on me in a way he hadn't intended too.

I came back 'round the bar and opened the register's drawer to drop in the handful of change I'd picked up off the bar on my way. It was louder in here than I'd recalled it being, people were chattering amongst themselves in groups at tables and along the counter. It was almost pleasant as someone laughed a little in the back I glanced back out of curiousity realising that Harry had been chatting them up, grinning.

"Anne, yeah?" A scratchy voice with a thick accent called for my attention near the start of the bar so I shuffled in their direction with some hesitance. It was a little off-putting that someone I'd never seen before knew my name.

"Thats what they call me." I nodded to the taller man who appeared to have called me before he'd taken another swallow of the stout in front of him.

It sloshed when he sat it down a little too roughly, I eyed the drop that landed on the counter with some irritation as I focused back on him. He wasn't underfed by any means, if anything he might have had a bit too much to eat. Figures he'd be well fed, and not give a shite about creating more work for a lowly barmaid.

"I heard yu've got an eye for winners." He seemed to motion to air with his pointer, thrusting it forwards a few times before his friend nodded to confirm his words. Who knew  _that_  would be started up as a rumour? And what kind of winners? Men? I'd had bad luck with it so far. I eyed him for a moment, trying to see if I could place him anywhere but I was sort of distracted by the hair on his second chin.

"Where'd you hear that from?" I tilted my head in response as I couldn't seem take my eyes away from the sheer amount of body hair. His beard seemed to join up with the hair leading up from his chest but somehow also connected around his ears to the shaggy brown hair on top of his head.

"We'll jus' say a little birdie told me, eh? We were wonderin' if anyone caught yur eye in the race." I sort of nodded at his words without really listening. Instead I was distracted by a light coating of brown hair on his knuckles, and some tufts poking out from under his sleeve. Good, God he was bloody furry. I was actually  _impressed_  by the amount of hair the man could grow.

"Eh..." I started to confirm that he was looking for horses, but trailed off as I didn't want to really advertise what I was asking about when the room went nearly silent. It'd dropped in volume when the doors opened up and banged shut as someone else came into the pub. It started back up again but lower that it had been and the atmosphere was sort of muted. What was this? They'd all be near rowdy by seven before and now it was like I was in a room of chittering school boys near a nun.

I glanced away from the ridiculous amount of hair for a second to see tight faces in the other lads scattered near the bar. The two in front of me cleared their throats as a couple of blokes seemed to huddle up to them, making space for another to come up to the bar and sit his flat-cap down. Ah, yeah. I sort of forgot that Thomas could do that to a room by entering it.

"Looking to test your luck, gents?" I turned my attention back to the men in front of me as Harry sort of dashed around and came in next to me.

He always insisted on personally serving Thomas and I didn't object, in fact I was happy for him to do it. Thomas elicited several conflicting feelings to bubble up in my chest and one was always anger. I didn't feel like getting angry today, I just wanted a nice slow night to go into an easy cleaning and then maybe a cup of tea with a book in my room.

"Why have luck when we can use yu, aye?" A hand came over the table and roughly clapped my shoulder with a chuckle as I stiffened for a moment at the contact. I swallowed and forced myself to relax again when I took the paper his mate was pushing across for me.

"Anything?" The first bloke with impressively furry abilities was a little impatient sounding as I unfolded the paper with a sigh. If he got any more testy, I could just rip the bloody thing in half and tell him to figure it out.

How did the horse whisperer rumour get around, exactly? Only Harry and the Shelbys knew that Thomas kept coming to me about bloody horses. I don't even like horses. I mean they were cute and all but the races seemed a bit barbaric when they shut them into little boxes and forced them to run. I'd only seen one race as a child but even from my 10 year old mind, it looked awful.

"Um." I hummed the word, scanning the page with muted annoyance building up. I wasn't some lucky charm to have gander through choices before I did a little dance that picked out the best one. I glanced over the top of the pages to see the pair leaning over the bar with equal looks of interest and anticipation.

"Careful not to knock over your pints." I snorted out of contempt, shaking my head towards the glasses as they eased up a little with the decency to look a little shamed. It'd just be more fecking work for me, but the shame was definitely satisfying enough. I began examining the lists on the page, scanning it again. Horses weren't named very well it seemed...Easter the Hero? Tranquil? Waygood? Eugh.

"Interested in a horse, boys?" A crisp voice sounded off, forcing an involuntary roll of my eyes at it's owner from behind the paper. He couldn't just exist without including himself, could he? Man just couldn't resist.

"Oh uh, Mr Shelby. Evenin'." The shorter bloke responded first, sounding nervous but suddenly respectful all the same. Thomas hadn't come into the office today to bug me about horses or my childhood, which was a little odd but I figured he'd gotten tired of my company after yesterday. I would. I mean, I had to be in my own head 24-7 and I got tired of it within an hour if I wasn't sleeping.

"Just looking to stretch our pay a little, yur Anne came highly recommended." The taller one spoke this time but he wasn't as nervous as his mate, possibly thanks to the empty pint in front of him. I pointedly ignored the possession and stared harder at the pages. It almost sounded like two blokes having a normal conversation if it wasn't for the somber tone and the fact that I was attempting to ignore half of it.

"My Anne, eh?" His voice was nearly as devoid of emotion as usual as he repeated the furry one's words but there was a little...twinge? There was something that struck me as different when he'd started out the sentence.

I was expecting for him to say something more for some reason, if not just out of spite to push my irritation up a notch. The smell of cigarettes drifted over my face as I inhaled to try and make sure the part of my brain that connected to my mouth didn't spout out something stupid. I paused for a second out of confusion when I didn't feel the need to be disgusted...I was getting used to the odour. Terrific, next I'd get used to stabbing men in the dead of night. It'd make me well rounded, at least.

"Nothing's jumpin' out at me, lads. Sorry." I shrugged as I got tired of staring at something I didn't see doing me any good in the long run.

Best case was that I picked one and it won which meant they'd just keep comin' back here. Worst case was that I picked one and it lost. No matter what happened, this didn't get me anything I wanted in the long run. At least with Thomas, it gave him more of a reason not to smother me with my pillow in the night.

"Really? Nothing at all?" The furry fellow sounded disappointed as I began to fold up the pages again.

"Surely theres something, Anne." I paused my folding, glancing between the blank mask on Thomas's face as he took a drag off of his cigarette and the two lads who were just as disappointed looking as they'd sounded.

"Bloody Shelbys." I grumbled under my breath as I unfolded the newspaper again and glanced through it. I ignored the possibility that Shelby's eyes held a hint of amusement at my predicament.

"Thrown in." I glanced at a single name and snappily called it out.

"What?" I began folding up the pages again in a mangled huff as the hairy one stared at me in confusion, glancing at his mate for help.

"It's a horse. She's tellin' you the name of the horse she picked." Shelby drawled before he took another puff off his cigarette. I sort of threw the paper back at the pair who snapped into action and stumbled to catch it while not knocking over their pints.

"Right, right. Thanks very much, Miss Anne." They shook both of their heads in thanks as the taller one spoke.

I nodded and folded my hands across my chest before I caught sight of movement from the side of me. He was averagely tall, and he could do with a trim on the beard he'd been growing. I know that fashions were always changing but honestly, I wasn't into the new hairy trends. I was a woman, and kissing a man with a scraggly beard would be about as enjoyable as rubbing my chin on the pavement for a bit.

"I'll take a stout." I turned my head to eye him fully as he seemed to give his order to...air? I canvassed the room to find Harry at the same table as earlier, grinning just as hard. Ah, it's me thats supposed to take his order. Right, I did that sometimes.

"That'll be 9 schillings

." I called out the price I knew by heart already as I debated whether or not I should bother checking the tables for empty pints after this. They were adults, if they wanted a drink they could actually get up and walk over to the bar. I took a step sideways, grabbing a glass from under the counter before I moved to fill it.

I was staring at the pint as it filled, but I noticed that the man and Thomas weren't interacting from the corner of my eye. It was odd considering that every man I'd ever seen in his presence somehow submitted. Might be avoiding his eyes, might be bowing their head, but they all submitted. I let my eyes wander over for a second out of curiousity, and quickly focused back on my task when I noticed the bloke wasn't just staring into the distance.

In fact, I don't think they'd actually acknowledged each other's existence but the lad didn't appear to be intimidated by him. He was standing tall with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the glass I was filling. Good on 'im. I wondered if he was from out of town or if he just genuinely didn't give a shite about the Shelbys as I let go of the tap's handle.

"Your stout, sir." I moved back towards the bloke with his pint in my hand but paused as my rational brain attempted to smack me in the face. The Garrison might have looked nice with the gold fixtures and shiny mirrors, but we got our share of the less desirables of society and I wasn't about to just give him a free drink.

"Here you are, love." He nodded his head at me apparently realising why I hadn't handed him the drink yet. I watched as he pushed a pile of coins from in front of Thomas towards me. I raised a brow, slightly irritated considering Thomas had paid for his drink but not this bloke's...and I didn't fancy the nickname he'd given me.

"9 schillings, mate." I deadpanned while he started grinning at me, glancing at Thomas for a second who half smiled confusing the hell out of me. Were they actually friends? And what was  _with_  this guy? I ask him for 9s schillings and he tries to give me someone else's change right in front of me. As though I lacked the ability to bloody see him doing it less than a meter away from my face. This wasn't winning him any favours from my side.

"I like you, you've got some guts." He declared this as though it'd change the price of a pint.

"Well as we all know, I live my life to please you specifically." I replied dryly as I raised a brow.

He seemed to grin at me as though I was this new toy he'd scouted out in the back of a shop. I crossed my arms over my chest after I'd sat the pint down in front of me to wait for the payment. He stuck a hand into his pocket and rooted around in it for a tick while I just stared at him blankly. Finally he found it and dumped it all on the bar with a metallic clatter.

"Thanks." I nodded at him as I cupped my hand under the bar and swept it into my palm with my other hand. Took him long enough, Jaysus. Thought I was going to have to prepare my eulogy for when I died of old age after he got finished rooting about.

"Cheers Thomas. Good health to you." He nodded at Thomas with a half smile as I turned around and went to dump it all in the drawer. Right, so they were friends then. Weird friendship but its not like I had much to compare it too, I'd had a single friendship as a child with my neighbour Mary and a shag with some bloke to piss off my da when I was 16.

"Is it not enough everybody's scared to death of you these days, Tommy? You have to make fools of them as well." I could hear a scolding low voice behind me and then a weary sounding sigh before I closed the register slowly. I supposed that I wasn't really meant to hear this conversation but it was just as well. The bloke obviously thought that not only was I blind, but I was also deaf.

"People who believe in witches spending money they don't have on a horse that can't win." Ah so this was about the races then? Maybe they were actually colleagues? Did the betting crowd actually have those? I didn't figure that gangsters could actually friends but hey, you learn something new everyday.

"You have fun playing with their ignorance..." I closed the register and glared at it as I found myself attempting to listen in on a conversation taking place literally behind my back. I wanted to learn more about Thomas, I didn't even care to know why. What made him tick? What did he dream about? Why was he so withdrawn? This was idiotic.

"When the revolution comes you can make me Minister of Information." Thomas's sardonic reply made me laugh aloud but I turned it into a dry cough when I spun back around.

"You alright there?" The customer held his beer halfway up to his lips as he paused to eye me for a minute while I nodded and covered my mouth with my hand.

"Bit of a cough, no worries." I cleared my throat, moving quickly towards the end of the bar I'd just come from to pick up empty glasses and a single coin. It looked like the furry fellow and his friend had just been here for me to rattle off a name for 'em before they took off. I guess a pound was good enough for me throwing a paper at them and a name.

I grabbed the coin, flipping it over in my fingers before sort of shrugging to myself and putting it in my pocket. I might have had pride but I wasn't picky. A pound was a pound.

The glasses were nearly empty outside of some foam that had begun to dry to the sides, leaving a sticky web of old beer. Maybe I could convince Harry to do some of the washing later and I could just sweep? That'd be nice. I've never liked washing out dishes and gla-

"Take cover! It's Danny Whizz Bang!" I raised a brow as Harry shouted out his warning and ran behind the bar with me. My mouth fell open slightly while my brain dashed between joining him and wondering who the  _fuck_  was Danny Whizz Bang?

I watched as he hid himself under the edge of the bar, spreading his arms out along the shelves to balance himself as he crouched. He shook his head at me and mouthed something while I just stared at him as my mouth hung open for a tick, not quite processing what all the fuss was about.

"Wha-" I decided I was going to ask what the feck got into him when the door's banged open. My mouth quickly snapped shut as I swallowed and figured that maybe hiding had been a good plan when I took in the bloke that had rushed in. I could feel my nails bend back as my fingers attempted to dig into the wood of the counter at the sight of this lunatic.

I stared with wide eyes at a right big bloody barrel of a man with a puffy red face as he huffed, he stopped for a second after his grand entrance. His eyes were wide but it didn't seem as though he saw the pub around him. His eyes had been snapping to everything that moved with shiny beads of sweat falling off of him as soon as he busted through the door way. I blinked with pure confusion at the fact that he was short but obviously full of muscle as he immediately grabbed a chair and hurled it across the pub. It shattered into drobes against the staircase as everyone else scattered and he just continued on his rampage.

My mouth was dry as the smarter bit of my brain that kept me alive scanned the bar for something to use if he decided to come around the bar. I didn't notice anything, but settled on smashing a bottle over his head. It was either that or just hopping over the counter and legging it out the doors. I shifted towards an open bottle of gin slightly, hoping I'd be fast enough if it came down to it.

I looked back up, reminding myself to keep my eyes trained on the rampaging loon when it dawned on me that his eyes were centered on me. I considered that he may have noticed that I'd moved for a moment while the bloke from earlier circled him. My heart beat began thumping in my ears as I realised that he wasn't actually staring at me, rather he was staring through me.

I swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden spike of energy I felt in my legs as my brain decided that if he went after me, we were just going to run. My legs tensed, preparing to catapult me over the wood while my head suddenly faltered between getting me duck down or jump over the bar and away from Danny Whizz Bang.

I blinked twice as Thomas suddenly yanked him back from behind and the other bloke dived forwards, grabbing this Danny's legs as the loon flailed and kicked. This was happening faster than I thought it would as Thomas fell on top of him and stilled with his head near Danny's ear. For some reason, I decided Thomas was whispering something into Danny's ear and sharing a look with his friend.

As a small smile creased Thomas and his mate's faces I was suddenly conflicted between running out the door and smacking them both upside the head. My eyes were stuck on the threesome, with Thomas on top and his mate wrapped around the man's legs. Why were they grinning as this man was flailing and flinging chairs all about?

"Had to go bang, had to go bang, had to go bang!" Danny roared as he struggled a bit, but didn't appear to have thrown Thomas off of him yet. Thomas whispered something else into his ear, their smiles had almost disappeared as Danny began to relax. Oh good, he was calming down. Thomas eased up for a moment, and I started to release the breath I didn't realise I'd been hol-

"Bloody hell!" I shrieked and kicked out blindly to kill whatever rough thing I'd felt touch my exposed ankle as a chill settled in my spine out of horror. Rats! Giant fucking spiders! Man-eating snakes! I hated them all and I was momentarily terrified that the Garrison was actually infested with them.

I jumped back a little more forcefully than I meant to after hearing a low groan come from below me and hit something that poked out from a wall. My back bounced against the Shelby's little meeting room as I stared down at Harry with a hand over my mouth to stop the shriek I'd let out. He was grasping his jaw and I stared at him for a moment as it dawned on me that he making the groaning sound.

"Christ, Harry! What the hell were you thinkin? Grabbing my ankles like that." I snapped at him, glowering as I bent down and wiped my ankle roughly as though that would get rid of the chills that went up my spine a second ago.

"Sorry! Sorry, Anne." He was muffled as he tried to apologise and flapped his free hand at me a couple of times. I was almost embarrassed at how girly I'd sounded in front of Shelby for a second there. He might have seen me crying and vomiting, but I still had some inkling of self worth by God.

"Alright, alright. Lets see the face." I huffed, trying to not look as anxious as I felt when I crouched down to his height with my heart beating rapidly. Seemed I was still a bit nervous from the whole rampage and all that.

I shooed his hand away and was mildly relieved to see that there wasn't any blood dripping from his nose. In fact, it looked like I hadn't even his sniffer, rather just his chin. It was already looking a little swollen as I tried to control my breath and my heart-rate.

"Alright there?" Shelby appeared to have already come over to see the show of a girl kicking her boss. Lovely. I peered at his chin for a moment, sighing to myself before I turned my eyes up to Thomas's curious ones.

"Lovely." Harry muttered as he began to stand up again.

"Just a bit of a..." I shrugged as I stood up as well but stopped speaking at the sight of the man who'd just been raging a second ago.

He wasn't raging anymore thankfully, but now he was standing next to Thomas and his mate. His face wasn't as red and he was looking worriedly at me which was ironic. I noticed how blue his eyes were, now that he wasn't about to try and choke the life out of me in some deranged nightmare.

"You going to have a drink or smash some more chairs?" My face turned from being right sorry to slightly mad, despite the fact that I could see Harry trying out his jaw next to me.

"No no, I'm uh. I'm very sorry if I gave you a scare, Miss Anne." He shook his head softly as he stared at the bar. He spoke in such a way that shattered the image I had of him as he flung a chair into it's doom which was confusing.

"I didn't shriek because of you, Harry just...surprised me. Thats all." I quickly defended my outburst with a puffed chest and planted my hands on my hips. A second ticked by and I swallowed the indigence once I noticed how stupid it sounded coming out of my mouth. Maybe I needed to work on my charms, how long did I expect to last if I slipped up and blabbed about the nature of sudden appearance?

I eyed him for a bit, my lips formed a tight line but luckily my fingers weren't trying to pry the top off the bar anymore while I wondered how he knew my name already. Did everyone know who I was now? Did Shelby just pass out a flyer with my name and face on it in his shop to keep tabs on me? I could easily see him doing that. I paused in my rambled thinking and realised I'd gone silent.

His shoulders were hunched over as he appeared to try and make himself smaller in front of my gaze and I eased up the glare I had going out of pity. I mean, he did call me  _Miss Anne_ , right? Rare to get a bit of respect in this place.

"Right. Does this happen often, ah...Danny was it?" I tilted my head as I scanned him over, ignoring the shared look between Thomas and his mate that I'd caught before shifting back to Danny. He was built like a brick house but his voice right now was soft and apologetic while he continued to shrink in my eyes, he had a gold band on his finger.

"Y-yes Miss. Danny Owen and not too often. First one in a good while. I swear, Miss." He nodded his head then shook it as he spoke. I pursed my lips for a moment, considering what he'd said before nodding.

"Well then. Best run home to your wife, I'm sure shes worried." I almost physically deflated as I proverbially released him from the damage he'd caused to Harry's pub.

"Ah, yes! I best do that, Miss Anne." He bobbed his head once more, a brighter look in his eyes as he turned and hurried out the door he'd busted through 15 minutes ago.

"Mr Shelby, you have to do something about him." Harry seemed to be feeling a little better considering he was already complaining. I went around him, careful not to graze him out of the fear I'd smack him again while he tried to grab Thomas's attention. Shelby, however, was currently focused on lighting another cigarette up and I almost snorted at the sight of Harry runnin' up to him like he was tattling on a sibling to dad.

"Damn right Harry. You pay the Peaky Blinders a lot of money for protection." Thomas's mate perked up, antagonizing the man as he egged on Harry's grumbling. I grabbed the cleaner of the rags laying on the counter on my way to the icebox for the damage that my boots had done to his chin.

I ignored the men's conversation as I went into the back room and picked up the pick. It was almost a relief to begin stabbing at the block, I could feel waves of anxiety and the tremours in my knees easing into nothing as I place the pieces I'd hacked off the block into the rag. I stood again with a small satisfied sigh and headed back out to the front of the pub after I'd closed the box and place the pick on a crate next to it.

"Here." I shoved the cold rag at Harry's chin who grimaced as I made contact, but took it all the same. My ma had done something similar when I was a girl and I'd taken a nasty tumble. She said it made it heal faster and I only half believed her to this day. If it made it heal faster, why did it hurt so much?

"Where'd the devil run off too?" I raised a brow as I noted that Thomas's mate had drifted back to the table along the wall he'd come from but Thomas was no where in sight.

"Probably back to hell." Harry mumbled into the rag with his brows still furrowed together tightly, probably out of pain. Oh well, he'd get over it.

"So what the feck was all that?" I turned my stare to him, waiting with bated breath as I crossed my arms over each other. I'd have to clean all this mess up, I might as well get to know what was going on.

"Danny Whizz Bang. Bloke served with Thomas and Freddie back in France, left his bloody mind in France too." He seemed to sigh under the rag but his face didn't look as tightly screwed up as it had.

"Ah huh. And?" I motioned for him to continue with an expectant wave of my hand in a circle. Surely there was more to this story, like why he picked the Garrison? Why hadn't this stopped? It'd been long enough since France, I'd imagine. He shook his head at me as he moved the rag away from his chin and pinched the bridge of his nose as though he was irritated with me.

"Freddie Thorne. Customer that was next to Thomas, remember him? Danny. Guy that was just destroyin' the whole pla-" My lips tightened as he tried to explain this to me as though I was a bloody child and I held up a hand to save him the trouble. I placed it on his shoulder after he'd shut up and tried to keep the fury at bay. I've just about had it with men who saw me as a small girl who was obviously not  _just_  deaf, but blind and dumb as well.

"Please. Don't want injure yourself thinking too hard there. I'm perfectly fine to wait 'till theres a man who can actually _think_  without causing his liquor to leak out 'is ears." I nearly hissed at him as I involuntarily squeezed his shoulder tightly. I was almost proud of myself when his annoyed expression melted into one of embarrassed confusion as I let go of his shoulder to shove past him.

"Arsehole." I muttered it to myself out of the stupid belief that it'd make me feel better while I grabbed a broom. I ignored the sudden silence that came about from the gents sitting near me as I started picking up the remains of a chair.

It went on for about a minute until I decided I'd had enough of this idiocy and stood up abruptly. The men closest to me jerked a bit in their seats which was totally satisfying, I have to admit.

"I could really give a shite less about what you're rambling to each other about." I threw my arms out in exasperation as I started on my rant. I think I knew in the back of my head that I'd made a bit of a scene that possibly resulted in their masculinity being crushed but I couldn't find it in me to care. If they couldn't just ignore me like they usually did, then they'd get wrapped into my chaos.

"I just want to pick this up. So unless you're too uncomfortable just  _sitting_ there, you lot could actually get off your arses and help." I shook my hands at the splinters and fabric on the floor as I glowered at the three closest to me. I watched as they to looked back at the guy I'd come to know was Freddie as though the were asking for permission.

He shrugged for a bit, looking almost amused as they turned back to me and slowly stood up looking unsure. I raised a brow at that, it was like they thought I was about to knock them in the head with the broom.

"You lot do know how to use one of these, yeah?" I almost laughed when I went to thrust the broom at the bloke closest to me and he flinched.

Alright, maybe I was being a bit  _too_  aggressive. I suppose they weren't used to a women shoving brooms and yellin' at them, though I didn't feel like I was yelling. I felt more like I was scolding a child for running out into the street in front of a carriage. Perhaps they just weren't very bright? Drink did make people more dumb.

"Lovely." I gave him a small smile to make up for the terror I'd apparently incited in the man as he took the broom and nodded to me. I took a step back, crossing my arms over my chest as I watched the three slowly edge their way towards the mess and began to sweep up the smaller pieces.

"Freddie Thorne." A masculine voice sounded off next to my hair leaving the odour of warm day-old stout to rush over my face as I kept my eyes on them. My lips curled back out of disgust when I turned and scrutinized the man.

"I know." I almost grumbled at him but managed a small nod to acknowledge he'd tried while I attempted to relax my expression. Might as well start now on training myself to be a little less obvious in my thoughts.

"Seems only right that I should know your name, then doesn't it? After all you already know mine." He was smirking at me but the mirth in his eyes didn't sell the cool composed look he was going for.

"Anne." I nodded at him again, turning to watch the three men slowly work. I was pretty sure he knew who I was already considering I'd seen his face in here before, though I hadn't exactly stopped to have a chat with him. Plus, apparently everyone around here knew who I was?

"Anne what?" I swallowed the lump of pure annoyance down and forced a demure smile on my face as I turned to face him fully. I stuck out a hand in his direction which he seemed to glance at with curiousity but slowly shook it.

"Anne Cormac, so  _lovely_  to meet you, Mr Thorne. I'm absolutely  _delighted_  to be able to chat." I tried using my poshest Londoner accent as I shook his hand twice with the same smile I'd plastered on.

"No need to be so annoyed about it, I just wanted to be officially introduced." He laughed lightly, shaking his head at me as he dropped my hand. I almost scoffed at his chuckling but resigned myself to just crossed my arms over my chest and waited for his chuckles to die.

"Sorry, I really did just want to be officially introduced. Felt wrong to know you but you didn't know me." He shrugged, looking less amused but still seemed to find me interesting enough to explain what his intentions were.

"And what makes you think that you know me?" I raised a brow, wondering how much he actually knew and if I should start checking under my bed for explosives from an angry gangster.

"Well...I suppose I know as much as the next bloke." He nodded much to my disbelief. How did he some how answer my question without actually answering my question?

"Hard to not hear about the woman that  _The Peaky Blinders_  are employing 'round these parts." The way he mockingly said the gang's name told me the level of disdain he apparently held for his friend's livelihood.

I watched as he seemed to sigh to himself, putting his hands behind his back as he stood next to me. Aw, I made him sad. Suppose he shouldn't keep friends with people that he didn't respect if he was that upset about it. I was starting to feel a bit like how I imagined Polly felt a lot, like she was surrounded by children in adult men's bodies.

"I don't work for the Peaky Blinders. I work for Harry." I snorted, realising he thought I was one of Shelby's underlings. I nodded my head towards the bar where I was guessing that he was still standing, possibly still grumbling to himself.

"I think you're clever enough to know you work for the Blinders." He chuckled again, aggravating me with his lackadaisical attitude. I opened my mouth to vehemently reject what he'd said when it actually processed. I closed my mouth before I said anything that made me feel more dense than I already felt. If you dumped the bureaucracy and paper work of it all, I might as well be knocking on the Shelby's front door for my pay.

"Its an idiotic name." I mumbled, not responding to his declaration even though we both knew he was right. He snickered at that making my eyes narrow into slits as I turned back to the men cleaning up in front of us.

Maybe I should leave, I always said I didn't want to work for a gang and I still didn't. It was all too chaotic and back stabbing to work for a gang, despite the claim of being a close-knit family operation. But when? And how? It was obvious that Thomas kept a closer eye on his town than Alfie ever had. London's operation had been scattered and in constant conflict with different people wanting another piece of it.

Small Heath was exactly what the name said, small. There wasn't a busy station that I could blend into the background of, and there wasn't a train I could just hop on that he wouldn't know about already. I'd need to wait for the perfect moment to make some sort of a mad dash but...that could mean waiting for  _years_  to pass.

"You've gone mute, Anne." I could feel his eyes on the side of my face, staring at me as he made another correct observation. So, I decided to make one of my own in hope it'd shut him up.

"Good to know you've not gone deaf." I nodded, turning to take over the chair's leg and seat that the boys who were trying to figure out how to get rid of. I grabbed the bits from them and tucked them under my arm, shooing them away with my free hand despite the chuckles coming from Freddie behind me.


	14. Chapter 14

I was tending the till, attempting to count out everything to make my time tomorrow a little easier though I was doubting it'd do much good. I was exhausted after the fright from Danny busting into the pub and everything else from yesterday. The bills and coins were starting to look the same in my eyes as I glared at them, willing the bits and bobs to make more sense in my head.

A soft knock on glass sounded off from behind me, I'd barely heard it and there wasn't another knock afterwards. I paused my attempts at counting and furrowed my brow, was I now imagining things?

It had to be well past one in the morning so...either I was hearing things, the Garrison was about to be robbed or a drunk had the decency to knock. I glanced over my shoulder to see the doors cracked open and a blonde head between them. Alright crossing off the drunk, and the insanity then which brought a wave of relief but only for a second.

"You're a bit late for a drink." I raised a brow as she seemed to take that as an invitation and came in. What the hell was wrong with this woman?

"My apologies. I didn't realise you closed up by yourself." She was insistent that she'd worm her way into the bar apparently.

I let out a low sigh to myself as I placed the money back into the till and shut it slowly. I turned around and scrutinized the woman as though that would help me know if she was about to try and rob the place. She looked innocent enough, but then again so did I and I've already killed two blokes and knocked one of them out cold.

"Its a passion of mine, haven't you heard?" I crossed my arms over my chest, watching as she gave me an innocent little dimpled smile before she came up to the bar. I think I'd just stopped giving a feck about mouthing off to just about anyone, so why not just continue? Ride that horse 'till it's keeled over or crushed me to death.

"Woman of many talents. I can respect that." She nodded quickly, still sporting a small smile while I continued to look her over. She'd been dressed modestly with a coat thrown over but it wasn't buttoned up which told me that she probably lived close by considering how cold it was getting at night.

"So since its not for liquor, what brings you to this neck of the woods?" I stayed leaning against the counter near the till, seriously considering whether or not she was actually just a pretty looking lunatic. Why else would a woman decide to go visit a pub in the middle of the night by herself?

"Who says I didn't come for a night cap?" She shrugged, turning her gaze to the shelves behind me with her smile slowly disappearing. She appeared to be thinking heavily about something.

"Oh yeah?" I tilted my head, waiting for her to figure out whatever thoughts were skittering across her face.

"It does give you a good night's rest." She nodded to herself, turning her gaze back to mine. I realised her eyes were blue, just as clear and striking as Thomas's...did I really just compare her eyes to his? I needed to go to bed and why were _everyone's_ eyes bloody blue?

"Aye. And you do realise that you're cutting into mine, yeah? I'm a bit tired, its not as though fairies come and clean the place up." I started out with a bit of a scolding but the thought that I was slowly going over the deep end with fairies cleaning was funny enough to snort in my exhausted mind. I was snorting more at my own idiocy than the possible loon standing a meter away from me but I doubt that she knew that so I cleared my throat quickly.

"Too tired for one glass? Come on! We can chat about all the idiotic men here." She grinned, showing a row of perfectly symmetrical white teeth. Jaysus, even her _teeth_ were nearly perfect.

I couldn't tell if I hated her or if I wanted to be her as I considered her words and her smile. She'd caught my fancy with the promise of releasing some steam, even if I didn't trust her but...I was hesitant to accept mainly because I was exhausted. I pursed my lips at her, considering that it didn't seem like she'd leave without bothering me some more if we didn't have a drink.

"Fine. One glass." I sighed a little but grabbed the rocks glasses that Harry insisted was only for the Shelbys and a bottle of the Irish whiskey anyways. I went around the bar slowly, walking towards a table as she followed along next to me. She was almost bouncing on the spot when she sat down and I uncorked the bottle to pour some into our glasses.

"So, how long have you been working here?" She took a sip quickly and almost choked from a gag after she'd spoken.

I sat the bottle down and took a seat as I watched her with a small smile growing larger as she gasped. If she was a loon, she was a funny one. Maybe she'd been a teetotaller, and switched up her tune since being in the town that God and the King himself had obviously forsaken.

"Hum. Couple months, maybe?" I shrugged and leaned forwards to grab my glass. I sipped the whiskey, feeling the familiar burn go down my throat as I breathed through it. I hadn't actually kept track of time very well, honestly I didn't care much to keep up with it. After everything happened with my da in London and all that, time didn't mean much to me.

"Do you like it?" She raised a brow with her hands wrapped around her glass.

"It keeps me fed and passes the time." I shrugged her question with little passion. Time moved on with or without you, and I'd decided that I'd just needed to keep moving forwards when I realised that he wasn't coming back. Course, that was easier said then done but I'd sort of figured it out.

"Why'd you pick here then?" She tilted her head, holding her glass but not taking another sip yet.

I considered that for a moment as I tipped the glass forwards and took another sip. I didn't actually have a reason but I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell her that I just sort of wandered in, honestly. Two story building with some kinda store in it that had drunks in front, and people wouldn't ask questions. Once I figured out it was a pub it made sense that the bar keep would know of any jobs or places to live around the area.

"Why did _you_ pick here?" I threw the question back to her without really responding. I didn't really want to share all of my train of thought with the woman so I sat the glass down on the table in some attempt to stop myself from drinking it too fast. I hadn't drank alcohol in a while and whiskey hit me hard enough to actually make me friendly.

"I saw an advertisement for it, thought I could do it well enough from my job in Dublin." She shrugged despite the sly grin that appeared on her face once I'd redirected the question back to her.

"Really now? You saw an advertisement for a barmaid all the way from Dublin and decided you'd come to Small Heath? I find that rather hard to believe Miss...?" I raised a brow, watching as she took another sip without responding to me but seemed to swallow it a little better this time 'round. She grimaced a little which eased some of the suspicions I held for her.

She obviously wasn't much of a drinker then. Rare for a woman from Ireland that supposedly worked in a place similar to a pub. If she even worked in one...she looked a bit posh for it. Harry wouldn't even have put out an advertisement for the job I was currently doing, at least not without telling me and he'd refused to hire her as I had taken the position. The Garrison didn't just have funds coming out of it's arse for a team of workers-

"Burgess but please, call me Grace." She filled in the blanks for me as she began to take off her jacket, so she wasn't going to answer the whole question?

A flash of silver drew my scrutiny to a small plain crucifix that hung around her neck while she wrapped her coat on the back of her chair. She was Christian? I mean obviously she'd be a little religious if she were actually Irish but she wasn't _that_ religious considering she was drinking.

"Protestant or Catholic?" I turned my stare away from the cross and back at her face. She paused before looking down at the cross that was now visible then at me with a confused expression. I suppose which branch you were didn't matter as much in England as it had in Ireland.

"Um, Protestant. You?" She looked a little taken aback at my sudden questioning and in my embarrassment, I realised that I'd been around blokes for too long. It was a bit of a intrusive question and not only that but I'd just threw it at her with little thought.

"My ma was Catholic." I smiled at her in some attempt to appear less coarse and ill mannered. It felt idiotic to try and be a little feminine around her despite the fact that I wore men's clothes all the livelong day, and didn't give a shite about that. Something about her elegance and her well... her grace made me want to be more a lady than I had been for the last 20 years of my life.

"Is that going to be a...problem?" Her shoulders tightened a little with her words sounding apprehensive as she took another sip. She didn't gag as badly this time, but it seemed like she'd swallowed it too quickly to taste anything.

"No? Unless its a problem for you?" I stared at her for a moment, wondering why this could be a problem. I didn't think it would be, outside of the fact that she was out of place and something she was hiding rubbed me the wrong way, I couldn't give less of a shite about the particular of her beliefs.

"Oh! No. Of course not." She laughed, looking mildly relieved at that my lack of care and her religious beliefs. I was more of what you'd call an on again off again Catholic. I turned to the church when I had nothing left to give, but I wasn't invested in it all. Priest and church left little to be desired for women, lots of rules and regulations for a bastard like me.

"Alright then. Lovely to meet you, Grace. Anne Cormac." I sat up a little, moving to shake her hand with a complacent smile on my face as she took it. I'd need some whiskey to deal with this woman for another 15 minutes, maybe she'd leave then.

"You too, I hope we can become friends." She nodded, shaking my head with a grand smile on her face. I sat back, grabbing my glass as I did and raised it.

"I'll drink to that." I declared before tipping it back and swallowing almost half of it.

"So let me get this straight..." She started after she'd sat her cup back down and I raised a brow at her.

"A Catholic Irish girl somehow got away from home and found herself in Small Heath? Without meaning to?" She paused, looking at me so I nodded slowly.

"Wandered into a pub, got a job, and now you're what? Hanging around and waiting?" She tilted her head, looking at me inquisitively. I don't know what it was about her gaze but I felt a bit like I was a puzzle for her to piece together.

"I guess I am." I shrugged a little, taking another sip of the whiskey I'd poured. I didn't know what I was doing here honestly. Picking out horses for Thomas? Serving drinks?

"Why did you come to Small Heath then?" I felt a bit bad for just continually turning her questions on her but she didn't give me much a chance to ask any myself. I'd come here to get away from gangs and the stuff that made London horrible. Loneliness, crime, and death. Funny how stuff that you run from catches up to you, isn't it?

"Needed a change of scenery." She smirked at that, like it was an inside joke but I didn't bother asking what the joke was. She wouldn't really tell me anyways, would she?

"Right..." I nodded slowly. How did this conversation focus solely on me and where I'd come from? I was promised a disparaging talk about the idiotic men in my life, not my religion and hometown.


	15. Chapter 15

I'd been sitting at my little desk in an annoyed stew, studying very... _different_ amounts in Shelby's not so legal book. They just didn't make sense, it didn't add up no matter how many times I repeated the calculations and that bothered me. I was considering if I'd actually lost the ability to see numbers specifically, when the sound of the doorknob to my little office turning jolted me away from the numbers.

I slapped the stupid thing closed, and attempted to shove papers over the top that resulted in a hurried rustling with sweeps of my clothed arms. I pushed them back and forth in a frenzied second that seemed to last for hours, ignoring the ridiculously loud crinkling sound that echoed in my ears.

I'd been looking for a combination of papers that didn't appear as obviously out of place to a newcomer as it did to me but no matter how I looked at it, the pages were suspicious. I spun around in my chair after my inner voice screamed that there was no time left for this and attempted look somewhat laid back despite the irritated creak of my chair as I struggled to move quickly on it.

I slung with my leg to lay over on my knee and a fist curled under my chin with my elbow resting on the chair's arms as the intrusive stranger came into the office. For a short moment, after my brain raced for ways to appear less odd in this position, I was wondering if Grace had decided to just pop in for a visit since I hadn't seen her in a few days. She seemed likely to just wander in off the street.

"You look...relaxed, as usual." Thomas fuckin' Shelby sauntered in with his regular blank mask, making my eyes narrow as I scrutinised him. He looked the same as ever, composed and modestly groomed, but I could see something different today.

The edges of his lips kept twitching up unceremoniously before he forced them back down and there was some sort mix of happiness and something unknown in his eyes when he scanned my person. My attempt at looking innocent was funny? Not just a little funny too, I was a gas from the little crinkles forming around his eyes as I stared at him. Terrific, I was actually trying to understand him. God...Why is it that you keep sending Shelby after me? Is it the trousers?

"I can be relaxed." I determined, letting my body relax in it's current position. It wasn't the most comfortable position but my pride dictated that I'd just have to commit to it at this point. There was no going back for me once I'd gotten cheeky with Shelby, he'd never leave go of it if I tried to. So, I just ignored the uncomfortable tight feeling across the inside of my thigh to focus on the man in front of me.

"I'm sure." He nodded slowly with his apathy still firmly plastered on his features, but his tone revealed that he didn't even half believe me.

"I can!" I glowered at him as he seemed to just shrug off my outcry and lit up a cigarette instead of responding to my exasperation. I let out a small sigh to myself at his ability to rile me up as he placed his lighter back into his pocket and eyed me for a moment.

"You eat today?" I stared at him for a good minute after he'd spoken, not entirely sure I'd heard him right until he raised a brow looking expectant. What, was he now my caretaker? I thought this whole thing would be over considering that I wasn't death walking anymore. He hadn't even been in here to bother me for the last couple of days

"What, are you? You my da now? Going to intimidate me into submission?" My breath died for a moment as I considered him doing that, and me possibly enjoying it. Christ, Anne. I pushed the disturbing thought into the back of my head quickly to finish my little rant.

I cleared my throat, "chase off any lads that catch my eye?" I raised a brow in return and told myself that I was just as equally calm sounding despite the hitch in my breath and the throat clearing. I mean, I probably wasn't actually all that calm sounding, but the confidence in my voice really sold it for me. I felt fake confidence was just as good with Shelby.

"I don't know if thats the right term..." He seemed to stop for a quick inhale of cigarette, considering that thought before he blew out the smoke slowly. "Though I wouldn't mind it, if you're into that sort of thing." I felt my eyes widen a touch at his words as my mouth dropped open slightly, and found myself wondering for the second time today if I'd actually heard him right.

"But didn't I already say what I did about people who bother me?" I blinked as he leaned down to my height and never broke his stare. "You forget that already, Anne?" He was calm and controlled in his threats, watching my face as my lips formed a straight line. He didn't just say that, did he? Did he _really_ try to intimidate me again? And try to start with-with whatever that was?

The smell of his cigarette flooded my nostrils as I sucked in a breath to stop myself from slapping him and left me with disgust. So, I opened my mouth entirely to try and eradicate the scent whilst still not slapping the man. While I was doing a bang-up job of not hitting him, opening my mouth entirely wasn't the best plan for maintaining the air of confidence considering that I could now actually hear myself huffing and puffing...lovely.

Thomas Shelby was quite possibly the most maddening man I'd ever met and I was including my own bloody father in that list. He made no sense, his actions were completely irrational, and he obviously didn't care if we were arguing or havin' a bit of craic in the same minute. Well I did, it bothered me quite a lot. I was getting to be more adaptable but not _that_ adaptable.

A second ticked by of us staring at each-other before he took another drag from his choice of poison and I realised that I didn't quite understand what any of what he said actually meant. To be honest, I sort of tuned him out after he'd pissed me off and now it looked like I needed to reply or we'd just continue to stare at each other.

I'm sure my poor attempt at cheek and then the surrounding confusion had revealed itself on my face as I turned his phrasing over in my head. He just continued to stare, smoking his cigarette and blowing the smoke at the wall next to us. I'd decided to settle on a mixture of indigence and anger at the end of my confusion concerning the man. How fucking _dare_ he try to threaten me.

"Why not? Different faces, same right selfish' bastards." As soon as I spat the insult out and hammered my defiance into his eyes, I realised these words had hit their mark. The stupid part of my brain that told my mouth when to open had officially betrayed me. Alright, Anne! So you just called Thomas Shelby a selfish bastard _and_ compared him to your da in one sentence. Nothing like killing yourself with twice the stones to hit your head, eh?

He took a half stride forwards with the same fierce look before he'd suddenly halted, clenching his jaw instead of moving towards me. I forced my look of daggers not to waver nor crack under the sudden pressure as I realised that I was obviously _trying_ to be beaten to death.

His lips in a snarl as he faced me, "Anne-" he'd stopped himself from even shouting at me. But, this hadn't just been a raised voice, there was a seething hurt behind it that surprised me. Instead of speaking, his fingers curled into a fist as he scowled at me and I began to genuinely panic at that.

My body tensed at the unknown as the apathetic mask fell away from his face and for once I saw underneath the facade of a cold and heartless gangster. Simmering rage threatened to spill over but, it wasn't just rage.

It was something _else._ The same thing that I kept trying and failing to grasp in his eyes, the thing that I couldn't put a name too but left me with the oddest sense of despair as I failed and an excitement to try again that wrapped around my core. I knew I was playing with fire but I think I've lost the will to actually care about the dangers.

Instead of actually considering the words I spat at him and their consequences, I was more bothered by not being able to latch onto whatever lurked in the deep void that was Thomas Shelby's heart. I just kept finding myself wanting edge him on, wondering when he'd lose control and I'd get a peek behind the curtain that I didn't even know I'd wanted but-now that I had, I couldn't fathom what was there.

I could feel my head tilting as I stared blankly at him, focused entirely on what he was doing now that he wasn't focused on me; so my anger got left behind, forgotten. I was attempting to process what the hell was going on here and do so in a timely manner, which was never easy with him. He'd actually gotten angry with me? That was possible? 

He always so controlled and expressionless, even when people around him were volleying off emotions as though they were in some sort off a passionate war. Bullets and bombs of love, hate, anger, pity; I thought that each deafening explosion did nothing to him but I was wrong. I'd only heard him raise his voice once and honestly, I was shocked when it'd happened.

He turned his face away from my sight, shaking it slightly but he didn't move any closer to me. I thought I'd be decked by now surely, and the idiotic part of my brain figured I might be able to just get away with spouting off whatever I wanted at him. A new wave of confidence erupted over my body as I smirked a little at the thought, he'd refused to hit me despite the fact that I refused to conform to his unspoken rules.

With some sense of morbid glee, I realised that I'd splintered his firm grasp of himself while also designating myself as the one he would never be able to fully control. I wanted to memorise every movement of his, every twitch of his fist, the choking of his lit cigarette between his fingers.

He came across as always having control of everything surrounding him, at least to some degree, but he'd lost it for one moment. Best of all, I'd remember it for the rest of my life, I'd tuck it away into my mind just to bring up when he pissed me off at a later date. 

He sucked in air deeply, "just fuckin' eat something today, Anne," the words were vaguely guttural sounding as he released the breath.

"It won't help anyone if you just waste away."

I blinked at the side of his face that I could see, wondering exactly how did this go from him being full of rage back to my health? He'd been mad before! He'd shown real human feelings, but now he brought up the possibility of me starving to death as though these connected somehow. 

A sense of remorse scratched at me under the guise that it wasn't entirely fair of me to do this to him. He'd helped me after my attack in his own bizarre way, without trying to get something out of me, and he didn't slap me for the outbursts or insults. I was able to shout or wave my arms around or cry around him without feeling like I was trying to find my footing while being pushed down onto a slippery patch of ice. Its like I was almost his equal, not that he'd ever say that out loud.

But, the guilt fought against my need to feel justified in my verbal slap. It whispered into my ear with a calming thought, it said that I wasn't actually lying about his actions and Shelby was being an ass so therefore, he deserved it. My da _did_ try to intimidate me into doing what he wanted with promises of a better life or just keeping my face in one piece, especially after my ma died.

Potential jobs, husbands, and even outright bribery couldn't keep me from acting out just to spite him. After all, no one wanted to marry the town bastard despite the enormous dowry. Especially not after she'd been deflowered by some bloke already and I made sure that the rumour was spread quickly enough.

"I already have. Had some eggs and bread this mornin' with my tea." I pursed my lips with annoyance, not entirely sure as to why I was telling him about my dietary functions. But, it seemed to do the trick of alleviating my annoying guilt so my mouth slackened once more.

When he glanced back at me his stare looked less torn which relaxed my shoulders a little and I tried my best to pointedly ignore my body's betrayal. Idiotic thing didn't know what was good for it, but I had to give it some respect for the sole fact that I didn't vomit after eating half-cooked eggs this morning. 

"Just chaffin' me, eh?" He chuckled lowly, going back to lean on the wall near my desk as he quickly sucked in some more smoke. I couldn't tell if this chuckle was a good thing or not but it didn't sound very happy. I wanted to ask, but I'd already stretched my luck rather thinly today and it didn't come across as a terrific idea.

"Fairs only fair." I declared, watching the tendrils of smoke drift out of his mouth and into his nose with a small smile on my face.

His lips gave me a wry smile in return as he leaned against the wall again, almost blending into the grey strips of wallpaper. I probably wouldn't have noticed him if it weren't for deafening presence he held, and the rings of smoke. The smoke was a neat trick, actually. It was just drifting wherever he commanded it too just like everything else in his life, I'm sure.

The fog drifting down from his nostrils almost gave him the look of a dragon which excited the number of hours I'd spent during my childhood, conjuring up tales. Stories of knights fighting off the dragon and saving the queen from his fiery breath. Of course, I was usually the daring knight trying to keep the queen safe but it'd been a fun story for when I was by myself and my mother fought to keep me from harm.

Silence dragged on after my memories faded, and I looked away from his face out of the pervading feeling that I'd stared at him for far longer than what was acceptable. My gawking turned to a humble stare as it drifted to the book with odd number that I couldn't make sense of under the pile of papers.

I was curious but...the silence had already dragged on for a touch too long for me to think it'd be appropriate. Instead, I just glanced back to his face and tried to feel a little less tense and awkward with the fact that he was right here with me. 

It seemed he hadn't actually looked away from me, taking a slower drag off of his cigarette than he had before. He stared back at me with raised brows, as if he was waiting for me to ask him the question on my mind. Were all my thoughts that obvious to him? Was it just him? Or did other people actually see me cussing them out in my head? Because if so, that might become a problem.

"Where'd the 100 crown come from?" I bit my lip hesitantly as he seemed to just consider my question for a moment. He was just slowly blowing out the smoke while he turned give the wall a ghost of a smile, a nearly non-existent crease formed between his brows.

"You really want to know?" His face turned back to me with a raised brow, and I licked my lips as though that would help my sudden lack of confidence. He knew exactly what 100 crowns I was talking about, and was hesitant to fill me on in it. Was this _more_ criminal than everything else he did? Is that actually possible?

"A bit, yeah." I nodded, officially unsure as to if I actually did want to know about this. It was the first time I'd actually questioned his finances considering they were usually explained in each piece of paper, and I wasn't sure what the protocol was for that. It was also the first time that I'd felt comfortable enough to do so and I seriously considered if there was something wrong inside my head. 

"Hm," he hummed as if that would help his brain processed my answer. 

"How about you answer one of my questions, and I'll answer yours?" Shelby kept his assessing gaze trained on me but darted to my lips before traveling back to my eyes once he'd given me his proposition.

I didn't really understand why until I realised I'd been nibbling my bottom lip and released it to sit back in my chair. Lip biting is not relaxed and you're supposed to the ultimate vision of relaxed, Anne. How else do you expect to be able to lie to his face?

"Sure." I shrugged with what I hoped looked like the utmost lack of care. Despite the fact that I was sort of terrified he'd ask who I was or something else that was a touch too personal, I was still here. 

It was just a little lie concerning my name but at the same time, it'd open up all sorts of questions about my past. Like why had I gone to such lengths to conceal 'Bonney'? Was it just because I killed someone, I mean I'd already done that here so why would that matter? I just hadn't told another person about anything to do with my past since I was five. That was all there was to it.

"Where were you born?" His reptilian eyes scrutinized and likely noted every movement I made. I watched as he focused on my legs when I sat my feet on the floor before his searching gaze traveled back up my person to my face. Lovely. I'm now an animal under study.

"Belfast." I answered impassively, careful to keep it short and concise unlike the time when I'd first met him.

"That much was obvious." He was a little too quick to catch onto my scheme here but, it was just a question for a question so I shrugged. He didn't ask where I'd been before Small Heath, he'd asked where I'd been _born_. People are too lazy with that little word.

"The money is from Danny." He declared just as blankly as I had, but I knew we were playing some sort of game at this point. The fact that his eyes focused on whatever movement I made meant that he was searching for something that I didn't understand and I didn't really care too at the moment.

"Why?" I raised a brow, wondering why the hell he'd pay Shelby a whole 100 pounds. Or how he'd even gotten his hands on that amount, wasn't he just an ex-soldier? Who could possibly hire the bloke if he ran through town smashing things? 

"That counts as another question, Anne. Still willing to answer another one of mine?" He was smirking as though he'd found a new weakness of mine and I didn't like the look if him. It'd make anyone nervous if Thomas Shelby started smirking at you like that.

"Well, yeah." I snorted, poorly blowing off the smirk as though it was nothing. I was really trying my best to act more like I had nothing to hide despite the fact that I obviously did. 

"I've relocated him to London, saved him from an early death." He cryptically explained it to me, taking another breath in of smoke while I peered at him in confusion.

He'd actually answered me before he'd even asked his own _and_ added in more information than he had to with no reasoning as to why he'd do that. I had no idea what possessed him to considering he was usually the one bloke that didn't say much unless he had too. However, the momentarily odd behaviour was fine with me in this situation.

I could actually lie at this point without feeling a bit of guilt from my stupid conscious because I'd have nothing to gain from telling the truth. I mean...I wanted to know why he went up to London but I valued my sense of privacy more. Could it be that he was actually trailing after my life? No...that'd be a ridiculous waste of time and funds. I'd been whatever is the next step up from a dead horse in the social scene so unless Danny was about to get a job in records, there was nothing there for him to find.

I blinked as I realised that Shelby had been staring at me in silence. I decided that from the speculative look in his eyes, he had to know that I wanted to ask why he'd left Birmingham. But, I didn't want to force his attention to what I could have done in London so I trailed my gaze down to his clothed chest before going back to his eyes.

"What was your mother's name?" His eyes glinted back at me in the sunlight from the single window, reflecting the stare of a predator back at me. I swallowed and forced myself to maintain the stare despite the distracting heat traveling below my stomach. 

My heart started to kick up an unnecessary fuss, the memory of him almost catching onto me at the telephone without realising he had left me with my blood rushing faster. The memory forced it's way through my mind while I attempted to stuff it back into the memory of my brain.  He couldn't _actually_ read my thoughts? Right? That was impossible. He hadn't even asked where I'd been before this! Hah, I'm the winner here!

"Martha." I raised a brow, hoping that he dared to say what I thought he was about; that I'd lied to him. Of course, this accusation was going to take place before he promptly beat me within an inch of my life.

The beating, I considered, would be deserved from his perspective as not only had I lied to him, but I'd also killed a man and promptly ran from London as a whole. He'd given me access to many things that could harm his family's rise to power if I fled Birmingham in one conscious piece. The political power which he obviously and desperately struggled towards with the bits of 'going legitimate' I'd overheard from their little meetings in the pub meant that I'd be a serious threat if he thought I'd go to the coppers.

But...on the offhand chance that I was just being _extremely_ paranoid and he couldn't actually see into my head, there were plenty of Marthas in Ireland and England. I doubt it'd get him very far. He obviously hadn't caught onto me yet, if he had why would he stop himself earlier? He wouldn't.

With that train of slightly obsessive thought I felt victorious. After all the odd tension between him and I, I was neigh untouchable at the moment. I gave him a small smile, fully leaning back and crossing my arms over my chest as he continued to analyse me.

"Seen the papers today?" He let the half-spent cigarette hang from the corner of his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest. Where the everlovin' feck was that question from?

I peered at him for a moment, trying to tell what prompted this before considering the actual question. He was skilled at hiding his thoughts and feelings, which was irritating as he just stared back at me with the hint of a smile and nothing else on his face. Had the questions stopped or were we still playing the game? No, he was too amused for that. The tension had fled the room and now I was just being bothered by this loathsome man.

"No, are you waiting to rent me out to the next bloke?" I scoffed as I shook my head with a solid no, and assumed the question game had finished with the insult game back on the table.

He didn't audibly respond though, confusing me slightly as he kept a vaguely amused expression on his face as if he found it hilarious that I'd even consider such a thing. Instead of taking my bait, he just moved his arms reaching inside his jacket to pull out the newspaper and handed it to me. Oh great, he came prepared.

"Lovely." I grumbled to myself as I took the paper and swiped through pages until I hit the racing columns. I wonder if this was actually a job? I could sell my services as a part-time Barmaid/Bookkeeper/Horse Whisperer. It was a steal really. One person with three times the possibilities, can't go wrong, right?

"Kingman." I actually took a second to look over the names before calling it out of fear that I actually did have some innate talent for picking. If I did then I'd potentially fuck myself over by guessing a name at random. Wouldn't want to dull my usefulness no matter how many times I

"Thanks." He nodded to me as I shoved the paper back at him with a fuss. I didn't acknowledge his thanks and choose to turn back to the not so legal book and organizing the piles I'd messed up in my hurry.

"I don't rent out my personal services. After all, you're my Anne, aren't you." Shelby's words weren't as much of a question as they were just a declaration of thing he thought that I should have known by now.

I froze at the possessive term that appeared to be turning into an irritating trend and felt my hands balling into tight fists with the urge to sock him in the gut. My rational brain prompted my hands to not crumble any pages I'd need and so they relaxed, turning into little claws as the pages slipped from my grip. _His_ Anne?

I wasn't here for his 'personal services', if anything I was closer to being at Harry's beck and call...but not that way. Not that I was considering _that_ way but that isn't the point! This was a matter of principles, damn it!

Where does he get off with just mumbling some nonsense and expecting me to understand it all? What the fuck did that even mean? His Anne? Was it the stupid favour I said I'd do? Did that mean he suddenly owned me? Not bloody likely.

I turned to feverishly deny such a thing. To shout and say that he was gone in his feckin' head if he thought he owned me or some other thing that was equally ridiculous.

"You're abso-" My words died in my throat as I glared at the door.

I found that I was now just shouting to myself as the door shut behind him with a click and the sound of his idiotic feet in his stupid leather shoes fading. Great, now _I'm_ the crazy one.


	16. Chapter 16

"Is there a Mr Shelby here?" The sound of a blatantly Irish bloke asking me about Shelby caused my hand to curl around the glass I'd been wiping. I was raring to go, just waiting for the second he walked through the doors so I could fire off the insult I'd been thinking of for the last five hours.

With each second that ticked by, I could actually feel my opportunity to leave him speechless with the right words just slipping through my hands. It'd gotten to the point that I considered chasing after him just so I could have the last word but stopped myself when I realised I might actually do it. What would I prove with that? That I could run after him? No, that was all fine and well in my head but I could never do that in reality.

It'd been a stressful day with Shelby jumping down my throat with his absolute lunacy and Grace popping in a few nights ago...I was ready for a bit of relaxing. I felt like I might have choked the life out of the rag I'd been using to clean a glass as I glared at it. Shelby, Shelby, Shelby. He was all anyone cared about, right? I was about to knock the next person who asked about that arsehole over the head and if it happened to be this bloke, so be it.

"Whose askin'?" I didn't look up, choosing to focus on lessening my glare at the pint. I forced my hand to continue methodically wipe the glass of any and all drops of water on it after my little mental rant.

"You're Irish?" The bloke sounded surprised which made me actually smirk at the glass.

He was definitely accented but I had no idea as to where exactly. It'd been a good number of years since I'd been in Ireland. London had a way of sucking out the accent from you, next was sucking out the life from you. I had very little interaction with folks in London, which might have been a good thing.

"And I'm guessing you're new to England?" I actually looked up, taking in the man...well he was sort of short and possibly a little young to be a man. His hair was brown and cropped neatly up his head, but it looked to have only started halfway up his head. Bright green eyes glinted back at me in excitement as he leaned closer to me from across the bar.

"Yerra I'm guesshin' you're not?" He looked absolutely delighted to see another Irish person in the vicinity and he spoke about 10 times faster than I'd heard from anyone around here. 'Yerra' was something I hadn't heard in a good while. An older woman from Kerry used to tack that on every bloody sentence, but a child forgives that when you give her some sweets.

"Left when I was about 14. You're a long way from Kerry, mate." I raised a brow, my brain ticking a little box near his face as I put down the glass to lean on the counter behind the bar. His frame was lanky but, it wasn't as though I could tell much about his body from how bulky his jacket was...not that I was trying.

"That I am. That I am, miss." He appeared distracted for a moment, looking around me."But, you've done well for yourshelf haven't ya?" He nodded quickly before he gave me an exaggerated up and down, whilst trying to lean over the wood to see my legs. I needed more lads like him wandering in here, that way I might actually enjoy my day without slowly losing my sanity.

"And what does this have to do with Shelby?" I raised a brow and tried to stifle the wave of giggling I felt coming on from his humour. I watched him attempt to actually see over the bar that came up to right below his shoulders with a small smile on my face.

"Oh! Right, well thatsh a bit eh..." He suddenly lost that odd boyish look to his face as he grew serious and lowered his voice as though he was about to mutter a conspiracy against the crown. "Bit hush-hush, pickin' up wa I'm puttin' down?" I wasn't entirely sure what that meant outside of something illegal.

His excited ministrations had ceased as he glanced around us to see a few blokes against the wall who were still chatting. Outside of them, it was literally just him and I in the vicinity as I was manning the pub alone for this evening.

Harry wasn't around at the moment, there had been some issue with our ice vendor and he had to go down to sort it all out. I imagined that meant he wanted to go grab a drink with some of his mates from their company and figured I'd be fine as the football game would last until we'd closed.

"Sort of." I shrugged not sure I really wanted to know what business a lad from Kerry had with Shelby. He seemed okay with my shrug though, leaning on the bar with just an elbow now as he eyed me. I picked up another glass and began wiping it down, focusing on that instead of the fellow in front of me.

"Bit odd for a girl like you to be workin' the bar in a place like this, innt it?" I felt a nerve twitch at his phrasing and stopped myself from smacking him upside his head when I saw the innocent curiosity on his face. So he wasn't quite calling me a prostitute, instead he seemed like he was genuinely just wondering. Oh...how quickly that innocence would fall away once he met Shelby.

"Have you not noticed the trousers? Lack of paint on my face, or the rag in my hand?" I raised both brows and kept a small smile on my face as I gestured at all the little details I noted with the dirty rag. I wasn't trying to insult him so I kept the smile, trying to come off as merely explaining these things to him.

He stared with confusion at all the individual pieces I pointed out that meant I wasn't one of those women. The kind of women that came in here on the arm of some bloke with a heavily made-up face and a short little dress that was only out done by their gaudy jewellery. Only thing I was interested in out of their outfits was the cropped hair but mine was far too curly for that. I'd end up looking like I'd stuck my head in a bucket of water and shook it until it'd dried, it'd leav frizzled curls sticking out in every direction.

"This is probably the only place that'll take me." I snorted as he slowly nodded with his brow still furrowed, as if he was trying to make me think he knew about all of that already. I don't think he actually understood why all of these things were as damning as I was making them out to be, probably because he was a boy and these were all fine for him.

"You're shtill a lovely bird though." He appeared as though he was trying to dispute what I'd said but I wasn't really wrong.

"Doesn't matter." I shrugged off the possible compliment he'd given me and picked up my glass once again to continue drying it. I'd found my little niche and it'd allowed me to gather up some money while keepin' a roof over my head as an unmarried Irish women, plus I got to wear trousers and a vest. I felt nearly naked in anything else even if people around me felt it was unnatural to not wear a dress.

It was acceptable to wear bloomers or togs if you were about to start running about in school but not just...casually. I'd raised quite a few brows as a teenager, from priests claiming I'd be on my way to hell to the women at the store tsking me. Small Heath was one of the more accepting of my so-called eccentricities but, I was still just a women that they didn't find all that tolerable.

Now it seemed that people just gave me an odd look and felt that I hadn't a single concept of class in my brain, honestly I sort of liked it that way. I'd been fined as a teenager for the trousers but having a da that was well-versed in legality got me off the charge in a matter of weeks.

"It jusht matters to me then, eh? James Delaney at your shervice, Missh." He seemed to consider my words for a good moment before he stuck out a hand over the bar to me. I raised a wary brow at it, wondering if that meant I should tell him my name or if that was even a good idea. Glancing back up at his face, it was fun to see that he was wearing a large grin so I slowly shook it, what could possibly go wrong right?

"Anne Cormac." I shook his hand for a moment...then a few more...and I've just now realised that I'd officially gotten caught in a hand-shaking loop. I didn't quite know what to do in these sorts of looping situations and I was guessing that he didn't either so, we just continued to shake hands over the bar.

"Well, _Anne_ , where might I find you ushually?" He was still shaking my hand as he leaned farther across the bar with his free elbow balanced on the edge. He was apparently delighted that he'd found another person from Ireland which led me to think that he might actually be fresh off the boat. As in, _yesterday_ fresh. I knew there were a few Irish 'round here but they were factory workers that stuck to their part of Birmingham so I rarely saw them.

"Here." I snorted, motioning to the nearly empty pub surrounding us with my free hand while trying to ignore the building moisture on my palm as he continued to shake my hand. It wasn't as though I actually left the bar for much outside of laundry and food, this was a central spot. People came to me and if I wished, I could chat but if not then it was simple enough to just ignore them.

"Really now? Rumoursh don't do this place jushtice then." He shook his head, but focused on making his point with his free hand while he laid the other on the bar...still holding onto mine. I think he might have actually forgotten that he was holding my hand. Is that possible?

"Rumours?" I raised a brow, setting the glass down on the counter near me to hear more about these so-called rumours.

"Yerra you've been here for how long? And you haven't heard the rumoursh?" He looked almost scandalised at that but I just sort of tilted my head.

"No?" I raised a brow, waiting for him to explain. I've heard of several rumours but I wanted to know which ones he was talking about in particular before I ran my mouth.

"Heard that people don't take too kindly to _our_ kind 'round here." James's words were low again but he still didn't let go of my hand as he leaned over the bar to try and whisper it to me.

I processed that for a moment, "where'd you hear that?" I frowned at him as I considered that likely came from the disgruntled ex factory workers that had gone back to Ireland. I heard the doors opening and shutting behind his shoulder and considered the possibility of me actually hunching down enough to not be seen from over the bar.

I leaned in towards him, "who said that?" I was speaking a touch lower in hopes that the other people in the bar wouldn't somehow notice their barmaid whispering over the bar to this lad. I was more or less just wishing that the newcomer had just been an abnormally early riser of our usual drunken population but I had a foreboding feeling.

"O you know." He grinned like that would answer my questions, propping an elbow up on the counter, "you must have plenty of these shorts of chatsh." I blinked at his words, feeling his breath fan across my face as I realised he had something with ham for lunch but I didn't find myself drawing back at all. I don't know how he hadn't let go of my hand by now. It was getting _very_ moist and warm.

"Nope! Not..." I began with a bit of excitement for a bit of gossip but paused to clear my throat. "Not really." I noticed how silent the bar had gotten as I finished the sentence and swallowed. Usually a silent bar meant that one of the less humorous Shelby's had strolled in.

"What? How is that possible? Shurely everyone tells you what's on their mind!" James's appeared to have either ignored the new atmosphere or simply didn't notice it. Considering the fact that he hadn't let go of what was now my seriously sweaty hand, I was betting on the second option.

"Bottle of Rum," Thomas Shelby finally announced his presence with a hint of disdain in his eyes when he scrutinised us. "Anne." His hat came off his head and was flung atop the bar, landing with a soft thud.

I wanted to stomp my feet and cry out that he'd already hit his limit of annoying me for one day, but instead I made do by gritting my teeth and bore it. He'd come to a stop, leaning on the bar next to James, but not actually taking a seat while he lit a cigarette. It made for a picture that I'd have normally found hilarious, the sullen old man standing next to a boy that was full of life still.

I just stared at him for a second, pondering the ways I could swing myself over the bar to slap him before I'd get shot, while he blew the smoke out the side of his mouth with his eyes staring back into mine with displeasure. After another moment of awkwardly staring at each other, I figured out this is when I'd usually say something.

"Ah," I gestured to the man himself with my free hand, "this is Mr Shelby." I leaned back from the counter to stand upright as though I hadn't just tried to become a piece of the furniture. Trying to casually pull my hand back, I realised that I'd I felt my shoulders tensing up, dropping the comfortable posture that I didn't notice until it was gone.

"Mr Shelby! Just the man I've been looking for, James Delaney." James didn't appear to pick up on my attempt to pull back my hand though he did give me an odd look for a short second before he turned to greet Shelby. I didn't care to stop and examine the look, choosing to watch the two men interact in front of me.

He finally dropped my hand to hold it out for Shelby to shake, "how do you do?" I attempted to conspicuously wipe off the wet feeling on my trousers.

"Thomas Shelby." I watched as their hands met, giving each other one solid shake before letting go. "Looking for me included whispering with my barmaid?" His words were curt and alarmingly crisp but there was only a raised brow as the depiction of his curiosity in an otherwise blank slate. I swallowed at that, wondering why he would even care unless he felt that we were somehow teaming up to destroy his life's work. As if we even could do such an impossible thing.

"Well, how could I resist such a face? She's friendly enough to make a man feel mighty comfortable in these parts." James nodded with a boyish smile in my direction and I was momentarily astounded by the lad to even formulate a response. Out of all the things I've been called in my life, friendly was not one of them.

He was completely unperturbed when Shelby took a step closer into his space to flick off a bit of ash from his cigarette into the ashtray near me and remained there for a moment afterwards. He didn't even skip a syllable in his speech which was just as amazing as his ability to speak so fast, like English was about to be banned as a whole in England.

"Friendly, eh?" Shelby drawled, sliding a nearly unreadable look at me before he focused back on James with the cigarette held limply between his fingers. I imagined that it was only the part of my brain that actually was insane when it decided there was a sardonic edge to his words so I focused more so on James who was just as gay as could be.

"Very lovely bird, but I was hoping we could uh...talk shome business, Mr Shelby." The Irish lad dropped his voice and actually stood still for a short second before he picked his head back up.

"Business?" Shelby held onto the word with a hint of discontent before he gave James a slow nod, sliding the cigarette into the corner of his mouth to pick up his hat off the bar.

"Whiskey, then." I raised a brow, assuming that announcement was meant for me as he turned towards the Shelby's little meeting area. Lovely use of 'please' there too, absolutely remarkable.

"Going to tell me what kind as well?" I questioned with a wave of my hand towards the shelves behind me that held various bottles of Irish brands and some Scottish whisky. Pompous arsehole.

"Dunville." Shelby declared dismissively after a quick glance over the shelves, I don't think he actually cared if I gave him cheek him any more. James, however, was astounded for a moment with his jaw slackening before his eyes started to glow and he almost jumped over the counter in his excitement.

"You've got Dunville here? Might have to bring the Shams by!" He gasped before he jumped a bit, "haven't had good Irish whiskey in _ages,_ " pushing his torso over the counter in some effort to see the labels better.

"Aye, we do." A small smile forced itself onto my lips as I took a step back for glasses while he reminded me of a wee boy on Christmas morn.

I really did try to not giggle aloud at the fact that his upper half was leaned so far over the counter that he nearly slid off the whole thing entirely when he moved an arm.

"Careful there, James." But...somehow one slipped out and it turned into a chuckle at the proud grin that graced James's face once I'd started giggling.

"This way, Mr Delaney." Shelby's cold gaze seemed to scold me before he began walking to the room and my chuckling died in an instant. I blinked in confusion while James rolled back off the counter and followed Shelby along happily. The oddest feeling settled in my stomach while I began to frown at the space that Shelby had once been in.

When the doors shut behind them, I began to glare at the wall between him and I. Something needed to change here but I didn't know what that was exactly, this-whatever it was between us just wasn't alright with me.

I pivoted on my heel and climbed up onto the counter to snatch the Dunville off it's perch on one of the higher shelves. When the little window popped open next to me, I began to climb back down without dropping it and grabbed up the two water glasses that were closest to me.

"That'll be three pounds." I slammed the bottle onto the shelve and placed the cups next to it a little more softly for fear I'd smash the thin glass. I glowered into his chest, not willing to give him the satisfaction of me seething. I could see Shelby nod from the corner of my eyes as he reached into his jacket, pulling out the coins to place them on the shelf for me. When he didn't move his hand away to release them, I raised a brow and met his eyes with impatience.

I couldn't tell much from his eyes this time around, if anything they felt rather empty to me as I glanced from eye to eye. Neither his left or right eye explained why he was taking so long to give me the money nor why him glancing over his shoulder a second ago made me so bloody angry. It shouldn't have.

After a second ticked by, it was beginning to feel like he was trying to probe into my mind again. I did my very best to ignore his stare and glanced back down to his hand to see it'd retracted and all that was left was a pile of coins.

Oh. He'd actually dropped them already, oops. I guess I should actually pay attention to my surroundings. After I'd scooped them off the counter, I turned back 'round and went to the register ignoring the sound of glass sliding across wood.

I slipped it all into the register and shut it again with my arse as I began to try and clean up the pub a little. It had turned into a big mess while I'd been distracted by James and even though I didn't regret the distraction, I didn't want this to somehow come back on me.


	17. Chapter 17

I decided to clean and clean I did, ignoring the stare and snickers from various tables of men who were stewing in their own messes whilst I stewed in mine. It took me a good while and after the fourth table in, I heard the sound of doors opening and popped my head up to see James's back to me. He was still chatting, though his shoulders looked far more tense than they had before. I knew he'd lose every speck of innocence once Shelby got to him.

"Have a lovely day, Anne!" I picked my head back from the table I'd been meticulously wiping all of a sudden and saw that their conversation had officially ended. Maybe not, after all then, he seemed just as happy to me as before.

"You as well." I nodded at James who gave me a small smile in return and hurried out the doors. I watched him until the first set of doors shut softly behind him and choose to focus back on my sudden need to wipe every bit of ash and every smudge off of this table's surface. It was better than accepting the fact that I'd have to come back to the bar where Shelby was sitting, smoking.

Maybe five minutes had gone by before I heard an incredibly feminine voice greeting me. I didn't actually register what she'd said so I looked up, hoping that would give me a hint. I blinked as I realised that it was Grace who was standing with one hand on her hip and looking at me expectantly. Ah. She wanted me to talk...right. So then just speak, Anne!

"Hiya, Grace." I bobbed my head at her and scooped up my armload of dirtied glasses, "how're you?" I greeted her before going back to the bar to drop them all in their little crate. Harry was _definitely_ washing up tonight.

"I'm doing well enough." She sounded rather confident for being the only female customer in here...though I had a feeling that more blokes would start wandering in with their dates for the night. It had to be well past 6 now.

I dropped the pints in carefully, trying not to break any before I spun back around, "what can I do for you?" I questioned, wiping my hands off on a rag I'd found near the edge of the bar and waited for her to respond.

"Um," she hummed in thought before she propped her head up on the bar, "I'll have a Gin Rickey." She nodded, smiling back at me as I just stared at her for a good minute. Was she serious? A 'Gin Rickey'? What the feck was that?

"A Gin Rickey..." I tilted my head at her, unsure I'd heard her right. "That's what you'd like?" I checked, raising a single brow. Maybe she'd actually tell me what a Gin Rickey was as well? My stare flickered over to Shelby in case he knew what that was, but he wasn't staring at me for once.

"Yes?" She didn't sound so sure now that both of us were staring at her. His eyes currently fixed on her as well, though his included both of his brows raised with his cigarette hanging between his parted lips in what came across as more rude and incredulous look.

"What is that?" I turned my gaze back to her in a question as to what that thing actually was. I had access to an assortment of beer and spirits but I didn't have some book or something that I could browse through for whatever fanciful drinks people wanted. I mean, usually it'd be a beer or a spirit. Our customers were working men, usually asking for beers while their dates asked for things like vodka or gin.

"Oh, its just a bit of gin," she nodded, pleasantly smiling at me as if she hadn't a clue that I thought she was a loon, "and some lime with seltzer water."

"Right." I blinked at her for a moment, I hadn't considered mixing anything in with liquor but maybe it'd be a good idea? She didn't add anything else so I grabbed the glass nearest to me and set about getting out the gin and forgoing the lime as I didn't have any on hand.

"Are you a whore?" I could feel my eyes jump to twice their normal size at the sound of Shelby's question. Christ, how did he not understand that if a woman who looked this posh was in here-he couldn't just _say_ that to her!

I spun back around with a half full glass of gin sloshing, "sorry! Pardon him, please." I let out a light raspy giggle before I haphazardly sprayed some of the fizzy water she'd asked for and placed it in front of the woman in a rush to distract her.

"He-uh. Hes..." I swallowed, trying not to start nervously tapping my fingers on the counter and to get a hold of myself, "he's a lovely fellow. Really."

This was my attempt to not have her get up right now and write a letter to her likely incredibly rich and/or politically important father that would result in the police being forced to take action with the Garrison.

I mean one, there were gang members in here constantly, and two we were a little loose with the times that we served alcohol and both of which were severely against the law. Why else would such a polished girl like her come by here outside of trying to disappoint daddy?

Grace nodded after a moment of staring. "Hum, of course." She looked taken aback but kept a small smile on her face while she grasped her drink, as though she didn't know how else to react to being asked such a thing.

"I'm a lovely fellow now?" Shelby sipped his whiskey slowly, watching me as if he found it funny that I'd attempted to clean up his mess. "What happened to selfish bastard?" I didn't respond to his mocking, choosing to cross my arms over my chest and glower at the arse.

He apparently grew bored of my silence and turned his attention back to her, "so? You're a friend of Anne's then?" He sat his glass back down on the bar softly before he pulled out another cigarette from his silver tin.

"And who's asking?" She suddenly lacked all of the docile and shy embellishments that made up my previous impressions of her. She'd addressed him with a bit of a bite in her tone and I almost took a step back from the sudden switch she'd just made, more than a little shocked.

"Thomas Shelby." He nodded at her still slowly pulling out his lighter, not phased by the abrupt shift like I was.

"Is there a particular reason you think I'm a whore?" She scoffed, sipping her drink now and not gagging while Shelby lit his cigarette. I wondered if she might actually have two separate personalities, one, a shy posh girl, around me and the other abrasive that was for people like Shelby.

"You're obviously an educated woman but you've wandered in here, love." I swallowed an annoyed feeling in my throat as he drawled the pet name for her. I knew I should be excited that he'd noticed her. _Logically_ it meant that he'd be less likely to focus on me that way but, instead of happiness, I found myself annoyed. Very annoyed.

"What's wrong with here? Annes here." Grace countered his statement with a delicate shrug and sipped her drink again. "And she's not a whore, is she?"

At the mention of my name I narrowed my eyes, she'd said it so irritatingly, no-so bloody derisively. As though if _I_ were here, someone so lowly and unkempt, she could obviously be here without any trouble. It was bloody _offensive_ is what it was, but I didn't have it in me to actually fire something back, I was too...hurt? No, that can't be possible.

Shelby glanced back at me, "Anne is paid quite a bit to be here." He drew in a breath of smoke but somehow didn't break eye contact with me as he continued, "she's an important person, can't be replaced like the common whore." His gaze darted to Grace for a second before he'd looked back at me, and even though I'm sure that I'd imagined it, I swear I could hear his voice in my head mumbling: 'unlike you'.

I blinked through the haze of him blowing out his smoke slowly, trying to see his face clearly. I wanted to know if he was outright lying through his teeth to me right now. I could be replaced, easily. Just go out and find an Irish girl that used to be a private servant, guarantee you that she'd have most of the skills I do.

But, as the fog floated away, I couldn't detect any spite; there wasn't even a hint of dishonesty in his eyes. My mind seemed to just pause at that, like it'd taken a break from helping me process the outside world and I was left with just feeling everything for once.

I couldn't quite pinpoint what the lack of spite meant or why it even existed or why I cared so much. He'd given me a compliment of sorts and I hadn't gotten one in a while, that's all. What is this that I'm feeling? It's warm and-ugh. Its warm, that's more than enough wondering and considering my feelings concerning Thomas Shelby. He's making me feel warm, bloody disgusting. Ah, there's my brain. Its back.

"Can't be that much. She lacks any education on mixing drinks." Grace interjected, disrupting the oddly compassionate feelings that Shelby had elicited in me with the same tact as being hit in the face with a bucketful of ice water.

"We don't usually mix drinks here." I snubbed her out of my own irritation and resisted the urge to roll my eyes at what she'd said. It felt like she'd taken a night cap with me as though it'd been a meagre blessing from God, but now I was closer to being an annoying gnat lingering around her ears.

"Surely some of the prostitutes around here take a bit of lime or sugar with their gin." She raised a brow, as if she was actually daring me to say she was wrong. I furrowed my brow, not sure what to say to convince her at this point and not sure why I felt like I needed to convince her. Why should I care if she believed me or not?

"No one does, " Shelby drawled. "Not even the prostitutes." His words held a sense of finality that I'd been looking for in my own. Maybe one day I'd learn how to do that.


	18. Chapter 18

"And where are you off too?" I'd almost made it out the Garrison's doors when John Shelby practically shouted his question across the pub. My right eyelid twitched as I came to a screeching halt with my hand floating above the door handle. I just wanted to do my feckin' laundry, it was my free night and by God, I needed clean clothes.

" _Ahn-ne! Annie!_ " He actually sung out my name when I didn't respond, leaving me with the assumption that he was plastered at three in the afternoon.

I could feel all the eyes on my back as they watched the little show between the grumpy barmaid and the Peaky Blinders taking place in front of them. I sighed to myself and pivoted back 'round to stalk over to his and Arthur's place at the bar. They were well into a second bottle of gin and were grinning despite the assorted swollen cuts and bruises on their faces.

"Ah, she cums hither!" Arthur banged his fist on the table and my eyelid twitched again as I came to a stop in front the two bruised drunks.

"Aye, she does. She wants to know why two bloody drunks are disturbing the other customers by shoutin' across the place." I glared the elder Shelby for a second, considering how long I'd live if I just broke his nose. Though, it looked a little like someone had already beat me to it from the bruising and the awkward jutting of the bridge of his nose.

"Biting as ever, luv." John grinned with glassy eyes as I turned my glare to him.

"We...uh." Arthur struggled for words, turning to his brother. "What'd we want, John?" His words were slow, while I adjusted the strap of my bag of laundry over my shoulder. I'd _almost_ made out the doors, damn it. I just wanted to go to the bath house and bathe myself and my clothes. It was so simple, yet so difficult when it came to these men.

"Nofin? I think." John began to frown, propping his head up with his elbow on the bar.

"What then? Just wanted to get my attention?" I scoffed at that, throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation with these two. I hadn't really chatted with either of them in a good while and when I saw them in the pub, they were exactly sparkling conversational partners.

"Na...Wait! 'Member what Tommy said?" John began clumsily poking his brother in the chest as Arthur's confused expression turned into one of realisation. From the state of his surprise and delight he looked to have seen the word of God himself.

"Right, right! Watch out for Campbell no...was it bombs?" Arthur's realisation quickly turned back into confusion while I lost my patience. I didn't know what canned soup had to do with this but decided that they'd gotten the crap beaten out of them.

"What's gotten into you two? Your faces look like they've been bashed off the kerb a couple times and you're drunk a good four hours before usual." I frowned with the annoyingly incessant feeling of worry bubbling inside my stomach. They were usually pretty aware, confident, even when they were stumbling out the door to go home. Now they looked...defeated.

"Bit of a family issue, Annie. Lees don't like our way of business." John mumbled, looking just as despondent as he sounded. Who the hell was Lees? Wait...was this actually a single person? Or was this a family called the Lees?

"Lees?" I raised a brow, glancing between the two of them. The only good thing about them being sloshed was that they spoke far more freely around me like this.

"Gipshy branch of the family." Arthur explained in a breathy sigh as he nodded. I assumed that a 'gipshy' was actually gypsy in sober people speech.

"When did the...fight? Happen?" I tilted my head, not entirely sure if this was actually a fight or just the Shelby brother's getting their asses beat halfway to Sunday and back.

"Yesterday. Tommy wanted another bloody 'orse." John rolled his eyes at that, which forced another sigh out of me when he didn't explain it any more. I hadn't seen Shelby for a few days after his little business meeting, though I had seen James just yesterday.

"Right...You two need a doctor, might be able to fix up your nose before your mug gets any uglier." I smirked as I pointed between them, keeping my finger on Arthur who stuck a hand over his heart with feigned shock.

"Impossible. My mug attracts all the birds." Arthur kept the same look of shock but the small smile made me more irritated. They were just taking the piss out of me right now, but that's fine. I'd win this, might not be able to do the same thing with Thomas but these two were easy.

"Then don't come crying to me when the infection sets in and your nose rots off." I glowered, crossing my arms over my chest as I almost actually huffed at the two idiots.

"That's possible?" Arthur's good humour quickly fell apart as he dropped his hand from his chest, sharing a look of terror with John. For once, John looked like a young boy that was worried as they both glanced between me and each other.

"Aye. Happened to my cousin Mary once. She refused to go to a doctor and now there's a big black hole where her nose used to be." I confirmed with a smirk that seemed to terrify him even more as his face paled.

"Why was there a hole? Where was her nose?" I seemed to have scared John as well when he started mumbling questions to himself. "What 'appened to her nose?" Both of the men were about as pale as a corpse as they took sips of their drinks and leaned on the counter as though they were on death's doorstep.

Of course, Mary and her nose was a bit of a little white lie. I'd never met someone named Mary but, I may have a cousin Mary who was now nose-less and honestly, I didn't know nor care. I just wanted these boys to stop thinking they were invincible, because they weren't! They were human and they'd get old or sick just like everyone else and most of all, I didn't want to see Polly crying at their burials because they were idiots.

"Can't you do it? Tommy said you stitched up yur own hand." Arthur frowned as I raised a brow at his attempt to not fall off the stool when he'd let go of the edge of the counter.

"Yeah! You're a bloody nurse, Annie. Do it!" John shouted, banging his fist on the bar as he did. I almost jumped out of my own skin from the banging and quickly lost any semblance of patience I've ever had with the man.

"Stop it! Stop bangin' the counter like you're a Neanderthal." I hissed, bringing a hand to lay over the spot where my heart tried to jump out of my chest.

"I'm not a nurse!" I smacked John's shoulder without quite considering who I was actually slapping but he didn't try to punch me, much to my surprise. Instead, he just grinned goofily at me with a deep pink that started around his ears and wrapped it's way around the tops of his cheeks.

"I think she liksh me." I'm sure that in his drunken mind he was actually whispering to Arthur but in reality, he was talking loudly enough that the blokes next to us could hear him. Arthur's hand came up to give him a rough pat on the shoulder he'd been leaning on as he gave John a congratulatory grin...unfortunately John's sense of balance was precarious.

"Shit!" John swore but didn't try to stop himself from tumbling, apparently accepting his fate as he went limp. I watched with my mouth falling open as John's body slowly went sideways, sliding off the chair with zero grace until he fell to the floor.

"You alright there?" I raised a brow, eyeing his sprawled body on the floor as he nodded slowly.

"I think I've 'ad too much, Annie." I almost snorted at his declaration while he tried to sit up right, pushing himself up with his arms. He seemed to be trying to understand how he got on the floor as he searched the room for the cause of his falling.

"Anyhow...stitching up my hand isn't the same as your nose, you need a doctor for that." I dead-panned, crossing my arms over my chest as they seemed to share a look between each other.

"Yes it is! And I don't trust bloody doctors." Arthur broken their silent conversation first, looking as though I'd tried to trick him.

"Bunch of greedy bastards, they are." John chimed in resolutely as he climbed back into the chair while I scowled.

"Its not the same thing! Your nose is broken, or seriously...not right. It could get infected or-or something." I almost stamped a foot on the ground out of frustration but stopped myself just shy of the floor, letting my foot slowly ease back onto the wood as I stumbled for reasoning.

"Can't you just try?" Arthur's face morphed from being a drunken imbecile to one of a sad child.

"Um..." I opened my mouth then closed it again after a second of staring at his pitiful expression. I tried to recall my own mother's advice for broken noses but found that I'd never broken a bone in my body. Burns? Yes. Cuts? Of course. Pestilence? Well technically yes, but I was maybe six. But breaking my arm or leg? Not that I could recall.

"Pleease?" Arthur droned, grabbing a hold of one of my hands as he actually begged me to do something for him. Well...I could get used to a Shelby begging me. It wasn't the one that would be the most satisfying but this would do too.

"Fine. Get upstairs and don't touch anything." I narrowed my eyes, ripping my hand out of his to point a finger that meant I was serious. John hit his brother on the shoulder looking excited as he attempted to get off the stool.

"Alright! Did ya hear that, John? I'll be the best lookin' Shelby soon!" I don't know why he was this excited about fixing up his face considering that he'd been in plenty of disfiguring fights before. Honestly, I wasn't sure how he'd stayed looking relatively attractive with the strain he put on himself daily.

"Second best, mate." John grinned as they both toddled off to the stairs while I cleaned up their mess at the bar. Idiots. Idiotic men. I was surrounded by idiotic men. How did Polly actually raise them all the way up 'till now?


End file.
